


Intoxicated

by ChileanRevolutionXIII



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Enjolras Has Feelings, Fluff, Les Amis de l'ABC Shenanigans, M/M, Pining Grantaire, Tagger au, artist R
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7653718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChileanRevolutionXIII/pseuds/ChileanRevolutionXIII
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is a tagger/college student who helps Enjolras start spreading his message with art. Fluff, angst, and les amis wrapped into one story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! So this is something I wrote based on Tagger au stuff I saw, it really interested me, so I hope you enjoy! My beta is @war-boyfriends on tumblr, she's amazing. :)
> 
> The lyrics at the beginning come from the song Intoxicated by The Cab, btw

_In a room full of frozen faces_  
_In a moment of fractured time_  
_We eclipse in conversation_  
_As the words pass us by_  
_With you we could be the only ones here_

 

Grantaire hummed softly, a song he’d listened to earlier stuck in his head. People passed him by as he ate his lunch, sketchbook in hand. New ideas kept running through his head, just waiting to be put on paper as tangible things. Grantaire couldn’t wait to get these ideas down. The actual application process would come later, after he’d found all his spray paints.

See, this artist had a passion for well, graffiti. Although he tended to just call it art. “Art comes in all different shapes and forms,” he’d said to his friend and dorm-mate Feuilly. “Can I help it if I happen to toe the line between creative and illegal?” Feuilly would usually just shake his head with a small laugh. It wasn’t like his art was slanderous or anarchic. It was just...whatever he happened to be feeling. Sketches of people, words in different shapes and prints, or even just random doodles. With a small glimmer of pride, he realised that people liked his art. They took pictures of what he did, in the subways at least. And no one had caught him. Juliano Grantaire was a college student by day, sneaky tagger by night.

Yes, Grantaire mused as he took a bite of his sandwich, his life had a bit of a dramatic flair to it. Especially when it came to a certain classmate of his.

How to describe Enjolras? In one word, one rather polite word: different. Not just in appearance, with his likeness being totally opposite to Grantaire, blond compared to brunet, slight compared to stocky, and with a three inch height difference between the two (Enjolras was the taller one). This was nothing. Personality-wise, it was like comparing a grape to a rhino: it wasn’t possible. Needless to say, they weren’t exactly the best of friends. Most conversations ended in a quarrel.

Enjolras was the leader of a small group that focused on trying to fix society’s problems, some political, some social. They met regularly, and a few of Grantaire’s friends had joined. Grantaire himself had written it off as a utopian cult trying to do the impossible, but he’d gone on a whim. Feuilly and another friend, Bahorel, had dared him to come to one meeting. So he did.

That was when he’d met Enjolras. There was something about him, maybe it was his devotion, or his intelligence. His looks were definitely a factor, but there was so much more to the revolutionary. His words were like magic, causing most to drop everything and follow him, and he spoke truthfully. It was like listening to good rock music after a hard day. Soothing, but also getting you pumped up to feel like taking over the world.

Grantaire went to more meetings after that, but he and Enjolras clashed the moment either opened their mouth. Grantaire considered himself a realist, unafraid to challenge the leader’s views or ideas. It vexed Enjolras, who was clearly an optimist, and that was something of an incentive. Enjolras would fire up, arguments scathing and meant to scare off the strongest opponent. Grantaire liked to think himself stronger. He liked the passion behind the blond’s eyes, his logic unwavering. If it was directed at him, usually with anger, it was an unfortunate side-effect, but appealing nonetheless. Enjolras had kicked him out on various occasions; he bounced back like a boomerang, and finally Enjolras had grudgingly accepted his presence. He obviously didn’t trust him, with their cause or anything else. Cold looks towards the artist kept him from talking out of line too much, and they’d reached a tense equilibrium. It didn't stop Grantaire from having a huge crush on Enjolras, no matter how unrequited: Enjolras probably wanted nothing to do with him.

So it was surprising when the blond went over to talk to Grantaire later that day.

Grantaire was in his math class absentmindedly drawing his professor, a comical-looking man with a stout body and a large nose. He didn’t realise Enjolras sitting next to him until he was poked with a pencil.

“Enjolras? What is it?” He asked, turning his gaze back to his drawing. Conversations between the two were awkward at the best of times. “I thought you usually sat in front.”

“Don’t you pay attention in class?” Exasperation was audible in Enjolras’ voice.

Grantaire shrugged. “Hey, I’m passing, so relax. What do you want?”

“Can you do me a favour?”  
“Anything. Polish your boots.” The brunet decided to humour his classmate, eyeing his classmate’s scuffed up Doc Martens. He didn’t let anyone touch those boots.

“Be serious.” A huff of annoyance, followed by a low murmur. “I know you’re the one putting up some of the graffiti in the subway.”

If Grantaire had been drinking he would’ve choked. He tried to keep a straight face. “Oh yeah?”

“You always add an ‘R’ as your signature. I thought it was obvious.”

A low groan started in Grantaire’s throat. Damn. He’d hoped it wasn’t all that obvious. “Are you going to turn me in?” He offered his hands to Enjolras as if ready for arrest. The other man snorted.

“Hardly. I want you to teach me how to do that.”

“Your rallies not getting enough support, Apollo?”

A frown. “Don’t call me that. And we’re doing fine. You should know, you’re always at the meetings.” That was true, but he wasn’t there for the politics of it. “I just thought we could spread the word faster with your...art.”

Grantaire waved his hand airily. “Don’t bring me into your political tirades. You’ve seen how I feel about them.”

Enjolras brushed that comment off. “I’ll pay you,” he said without hesitation.

“Excuse me?!”

“Is there a problem back there?” Both boys turned to look at the professor.

“Of course not, sir,” Enjolras said smoothly. “Grantaire was just having trouble with the lesson.” Grantaire’s ears reddened, and he looked down, hearing a couple snickers.

The teacher relented. “Well, you can tutor him later. I won’t be repeating anything for your benefit.” He turned back to the board.

“Thanks a lot,” Grantaire grumbled. He went back to drawing, trying to ignore Enjolras. But the blond was persistent.

“Five-hundred dollars if you take me tonight.” To his credit, Enjolras was now focusing on his work.

“Did you rob a bank? Who just shells out that kind of money?”

“Does it matter?”

No. “I--” Grantaire sighed. “Fine. I’ll take you, but no promises on saving you if you get arrested.”

Enjolras smiled smugly, and the brunette hoped he wouldn’t regret this.

*

“Oh, no.” Grantaire shook his head as Enjolras neared him. “What are you wearing?” The answer was a red hoodie that could be seen a mile away in the dark night.

“What? I like this hoodie, and it’s the most casual thing I could find.” Enjolras said defensively.

“Take it off,” Grantaire ordered.

“I only have a t-shirt underneath.”

“What colour?”

“White.” Amazing, there wasn’t a flicker of shame in Enjolras’ eyes. Grantaire rolled his.

“Give me your hoodie.” He unzipped his dark green one and tossed it to the blond. He’d had enough sense to be wearing all dark colours. He raised an eyebrow when Enjolras made no move to take his off, staring at the hoodie he now held.

“I like this one.” Wait, was he complaining? He sounded like a kid about to get his toy taken away. Grantaire tried to keep a straight face. Enjolras must have noticed the effort, because he quickly took off his sweatshirt and gave it to Grantaire, sliding on the green one. He had to admit, Enjolras didn’t look too bad in green. Red still suited him better though.

“So what are we doing in a run-down park? No one’ll see it here,” Enjolras seemed confused.

“Hold on, E. You’ve never done this before, have you? No. I need to see your skills.”

Enjolras frowned slightly. “I assumed you’d be doing the work.”

“Most of it, but I’m only letting you off the hook if you’re completely lacking in artistic ability.” Grantaire gave a shrug.

“Fine, give me a can then.”

xxx

Enjolras took the can of red paint Grantaire handed him. He’d actually never held one, staring at it uncertainly. He held the can up to the wall, pressing down hard on the nozzle.

“Dude!” The spray of paint had gone to the side, the opening in the wrong direction. Enjolras winced when he saw the the red on Grantaire’s shirt and face. The brunet sighed, and Enjolras hastily corrected the nozzle. He faced the wall again, making a shaky E. The paint dripped down the wall, and he wrinkled his nose in disappointment. Though not necessarily surprise, he never had been that good at art. But a letter on a wall?

“Stop. Let me show you how to actually use it.” Enjolras felt Grantaire cover the hand he was holding the can in with his own. He was aware of the close proximity, but didn’t comment, hoping he couldn’t see the blush covering his cheeks. He shivered, Grantaire’s breathing tickled his ear. He felt his hand being guided along, making the faint lines on the wall thicker and the ‘E’ he’d drawn smoother.

“Why don’t you do it?” Enjolras asked. “I’m terrible at art.”

Grantaire shook his head. “We’re here to teach you, remember? You hired me for that.”

Enjolras pursed his lips in annoyance. Grantaire stepped back, reaching into his bag to pull out a black can.

“I want you to keep practising. I’m gonna paint a little too.”

“Alright…” Enjolras continued to paint, starting with a small star that was still a little shaky. At one point he looked over at what Grantaire was drawing, and he gasped. 

Grantaire had made a tree, and it was amazing. The leaves had been painted in green, the roots all had details, and there might have even been a couple birds added in. Smooth lines had made it look beautiful.

“How did you do that in ten minutes?” 

Grantaire stopped, hand lowering. His expression was guarded. “Practice?”

Enjolras shook his head. “You’re talented. I’ve seen what you draw in your art class. It’s fantastic.” He sat down, resting against the wall.

“You saw my art?” Grantaire joined him, resting his hands on his knees, tapping out an impatient little rhythm.

“Hard not to.” Enjolras smiled at him, even though it was too dark for either boy to see much.

“Thanks…” They sat in silence, listening to the wind whistling around the buildings. Enjolras closed his eyes and leant his head back, letting the calm take over. It was nights like these that he absolutely loved, looking up at the stars in the clear night. 

He rested until he felt Grantaire moved next to him, standing up in a rush. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Enjolras cocked his head, listening. It was just audible, a car. Maybe cops? Flashing lights a few seconds later confirmed it.

“We gotta go.” Grantaire pulled Enjolras up. He hesitated only to put his trademark ‘R’ on the art before packing everything up. Then he ran, Enjolras right behind him. If the sirens were anything to judge by, they were being followed.

He and Grantaire weaved down more streets and alleys, hoping to evade the cops long enough for them to give up. If he hadn’t been so out of breath, he would have laughed giddily, almost not believing what was happening. His first actual police chase.

A sudden yank on his arm and Enjolras felt himself being dragged through a small opening and into a room. Grantaire was collapsed on the ground, his bag tossed away in a small corner. Enjolras was bent over, hands on knees and gasping for air.

After they’d both regained steady breathing, Enjolras heard Grantaire giggle.

“I’ll bet that was Javert. He’s always after people for the smallest things.”

“You sound like this has happened before.” Enjolras raised his eyebrows. He could hear rustling, a click, and the room lit up slightly, a lantern in Grantaire’s hand.

“I’ve had my run-ins. Not for tagging, but let’s just say I’ve been around. Javert’s usually at the station.”

Enjolras shook his head, wondering if he’d made a mistake in coming out with Grantaire. “You sound like a criminal.”

“You don’t see many innocents committing vandalism, Apollo.” Enjolras felt a twinge of annoyance at the name, pursing his lips. Grantaire laughed again. “Don’t worry. I’ve never killed anyone, and robbery isn’t my thing.”

“Hmm.” Enjolras straightened, looking around the dimly-lit room. “Do you come here often?”

“Only to avoid getting caught. I don’t think anyone knows it’s here.” Grantaire reached into a box next to him, pulling out a bottle of wine. “Thirsty?”

Enjolras declined. “No, thanks. I’d rather have a clear head right now.”

“Okay.” Grantaire took a drink from it. “We’ll stay here for a bit longer, just in case they’re still looking, then I’ll take you home.”

The mention of the police caused Enjolras to frown. “Just my luck, a cop chase on my first day out.”

“It happens. At least you weren’t wearing bright colours. It would’ve been hard to get away. Speaking of which..” Grantaire pulled Enjolras’ red hoodie from his bag. “Charming though you may be in my sweatshirt, I’d like it back.”

“I dunno...” Enjolras decided to tease Grantaire, pulling lightly at the string on the hoodie. “It’s soft, I might keep it.”

“Oof. Vandalism and theft? Who’s the criminal now?”

Enjolras resented that comment, feeling surprised and indignant at the retort. He took off the hoodie and threw it. It hit Grantaire in the face, landing in his lap with a poof. 

“Thank you Apollo. You’re so kind. Oh, and you got paint on it. So that adds on to destruction of property...” Enjolras watched Grantaire count all of his ‘crimes’ on his fingers. “I thought your group was about justice?” He smirked.

“Shut up,” Enjolras neared Grantaire.

“Make me. You always do at the Musain.” If Grantaire had meant to say that jokingly, he failed miserably. It came out bitter, and Enjolras stepped back.

“Grantaire…”

“C’mon.” the brunet brushed Enjolras aside. “Let’s get you home.” He exited the small room, and Enjolras had no choice but to follow.

Xxx

The trip to Enjolras’ house was silent the whole way, save when Enjolras pointed out directions to his house. When they neared Enjolras’ apartment Grantaire slowed.

“Alright well, I should head home.”

“Grantaire, it’s already past midnight. We have school tomorrow. Just stay here tonight.”

“Stay...at your place,” Grantaire said slowly. Enjolras nodded. “Are you okay? This is Grantaire you’re talking to. I thought you couldn’t stand me.”

“If I couldn’t stand you I wouldn’t have gone with you tonight.” Enjolras smiled wryly. “C’mon. You must be tired from all that running.” He pushed open the door, holding it for Grantaire to step through.

The apartment was pretty much what Grantaire had expected. Tidy, save a few papers strewn about haphazardly. The walls were white with, surprise surprise, red couches in the centre of the room. While he looked around, Enjolras came back wearing pyjamas.

“Here.” He gave a shirt and pj bottoms. “You can use the bathroom.” He smelt like mint, so he’d probably already brushed his teeth.

“Where should I sleep?”

Enjolras shrugged. “You can use the bed. I’ve slept on couches before, I’ll be fine.”

Grantaire shook his head. “It’s your bed, you should use it.”

“No, really, you can--”

“Enjolras, come on.” Grantaire raked a hand through his hair.

“If you’re bent on arguing with me then fine. We’ll compromise and share the bed.”

Oh. Grantaire blinked. Enjolras tilted his head, eyeing the brunet.

“What?”

“Nothing. Fine, we’ll share. No cuddling though, got it?” Grantaire’s voice hitched at the end of his sentence nervously. Enjolras didn’t seem to notice, he’d turned red.

 

“Like I would. Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He looked away quickly, and Grantaire took that as his cue to head into the bathroom.

Enjolras was already in bed when he came out, but he was still awake.

“Hey,” he said softly, settling himself down on the bed.

“Hey.” Enjolras yawned. “I forgot to give you the money.”

“Don’t think about it. Just get me a coffee in the morning and we’ll be even.” Grantaire lay on his back, but he looked over. Enjolras was still watching him. “What?”

“Would you take me tagging again? Our practice session got cut off, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah. I guess I could take you again. Not for a while though. We should probably lay low.”

“Aye, captain.” Enjolras grinned before yawning again. He seemed more...relaxed when he wasn’t with anyone else. More like how a normal twenty-two year old would act, Grantaire mused.

“Well. Night, Enjolras.”

“Night, R.” Enjolras shuffled until he was facing the other way. Grantaire smiled briefly before closing his eyes. He had to admit, Enjolras was really different from how he’d perceived him to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter! I don't know how consistent updating will be, but probably no longer than two weeks per chapter. Anyway, enjoy!

Grantaire woke up shivering. He curled into a ball, a hand reaching out to find blankets. Instead he found his fingers tangled in blond curls. He opened his eyes, seeing Enjolras next to him.

His eyes were closed, and he was murmuring nonsensical words. The blankets were all wrapped around him. Grantaire would’ve thought it was cute if he wasn’t so cold. Scratch that, he still thought it was cute. In a moment of rash thought, he grabbed a fistful of blanket and yanked. Maybe a little too hard. He was unbalanced, and with a yelp of surprise he went over the edge of the bed with a thud. A moment later Enjolras peeked over the edge, rubbing an eye sleepily. 

“You all right?”

“I’m fine,” Grantaire grumbled, untangling himself. “You’re a blanket hog.”

Enjolras laughed. “You’re the one with the blankets around you, not me.” He got up, rooting through his drawers for clothes. “School starts in an hour. I’ll go get coffee if you want, and we’ll walk together.”

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” Grantaire asked suspiciously.

“What do you mean? I’m always like this.”

“Maybe with Combeferre and the others you are, but not with me,” Grantaire said sourly.

“That’s…” Enjolras looked at the ground. “Really? But we only argue at the cafe. You usually start the fights,” he added accusingly.

“True. I guess I really don’t talk to you outside the Musain,” Grantaire said. “I kinda just assumed that’s how you always are.” He cleared his throat. “Anyways, coffee?”

Enjolras clearly wanted to say more, but relented, going to brush his teeth before getting ready and leaving the apartment. Frustrated, Grantaire sat back on the bed. Amazing how he could always ruin a moment with a few words.

The truth was, he liked arguing with Enjolras. Otherwise they never said anything to each other. Grantaire loved the determination he saw whenever the blond spoke, and so long as he was like that Grantaire didn’t mind being an outcast. The fact that Enjolras seemed to want to talk to him now was confusing, and honestly, a little alarming.

When Enjolras came back Grantaire only had jeans on.

“Is something wrong?” Enjolras leant against the doorframe. Grantaire turned around, a light blush on his face.

“My shirts smell like sweat. I’m not wearing them to school.”

“Why don’t you take one of mine?” The blond crossed the room to pick out a random t-shirt. 

“Here. Also this.” He gave Grantaire a blue hoodie.

“Blue? I’ve never seen you wear this.” Grantaire put the shirt and hoodie.

“It’s Courfeyrac’s. He always leaves stuff here, then forgets. The coffee’s on the counter, we should start heading to school.” Grantaire missed the slight flush of red on Enjolras’ cheeks that almost matched his, and walked past him.

“Can we stop at my place? I need my backpack.”

“Why don’t you just ask Feuilly to get it for you? I thought he was your roommate.” Enjolras watched Grantaire text their friend.

“Good idea. He’ll meet us outside the school.”

“Then let’s go.” Enjolras took his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “Are you going to the meeting after school?”

“I dunno. I was kinda planning on having dinner with the king of Sweden tonight, why?” Enjolras rolled his eyes at Grantaire’s ‘plans’. “Yes, I’m going.”

“Good. I’m planning on telling everybody when the next protest is.”

Grantaire exhaled. “You don’t expect me to go, do you? To the protest, I mean.”

“Why not? You go to everything else,” Enjolras stated, not slowing his pace.

“Yeah, but that’s different. A protest is a big deal. People could definitely get hurt, E, and I’m not about that.”

Now Enjolras turned to look at Grantaire. “It’s the only way to change things, Grantaire. Otherwise nothing will get fixed.”

“You don’t need me to fix things,” Grantaire said with a little smile. “You’re doing fine on your own.”

“That’s an excuse.” Enjolras’ voice turned icy. “You could do anything if you wanted, you just don’t. Because you’re scared, and you think something might go wrong.”

“If I was worried something,” Grantaire made air quotes, “‘might go wrong’, do you think I would’ve taken you out tagging? We could have gotten caught, and thrown in jail, but we went anyway!”

“Then why won’t you come with?”

Grantaire was silent, refusing to meet Enjolras’ eyes. _I don’t want to see you or anyone get hurt._ He did this until he heard footsteps leading away from him, and looked up to see Enjolras leaving. He would’ve called out, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“R? I have your bag.” Feuilly was smiling, but it wavered when he saw the expression on  
Grantaire’s face. “What’s wrong? That was Enjolras, wasn’t it? I thought you guys didn’t really talk.”

“We don’t,” Grantaire said bluntly. He took the bag, a fake smile on his face. “I’m not going to class. Would you be a dear and give this to Enjolras when you see him?” He pressed the half-full cup of coffee into Feuilly’s hand.

“I guess. But where are you going?”

“I’m gonna go clear my head, maybe do a little painting.” Grantaire waved back to his friend as he walked away.

***

“Enjolras!”

Enjolras turned to see Feuilly greet him as they sat down for class.

“Hey, Feuilly,” Enjolras said, writing notes in his books for tips for the meeting tonight.

“I saw Grantaire outside, I thought you were talking to him.”

Enjolras grimaced. “I was. It was going fine, but then he said he wasn’t going to the protest.”  
“And you got mad.”

“Yes, a little. Okay, a lot,” the blond amended when seeing the disbelief on Feuilly’s face. “But I don’t know why he doesn’t just go. We’d all be there, I doubt anything bad would happen.”

“He goes to everything else E. Maybe you should respect his decision, just this once. He isn't going to fall in love with your temper, you know.” Feuilly gave Enjolras a knowing look.

Enjolras had realised a couple weeks back that he had feelings for Grantaire. The brunet had been coming to meetings for about a month then. It was during an argument, Enjolras had been firing point after point against Grantaire’s argument, and Grantaire shot down each point with his own infuriating logic. Enjolras’ heart rate had risen, he’d felt exhilaration more than anger at that moment. It was then that he’d seen Grantaire’s confident smile, actually focused on it. His dark eyes were bright with energy and intelligence, and he’d fallen. He’d let Grantaire win the argument that day, but he’d finished the meeting with a smile.

“I know, but it’s hard talking to him when he keeps trying to argue.”

“Maybe he isn’t trying. You two just need to compromise. Isn’t he teaching you the ancient art of graffiti?”

Enjolras rested his head on one hand. “I guess...you haven’t told him, have you?”

“I sincerely doubt he’d believe me even if I did. He seems to think you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him.”

“To everyone on the outside, it looks like you kind of do. Even Marius noticed, and he’s always distracted.” Feuilly patted Enjolras on the back. “Figure it out. I know you can. Talk to him at the meeting.” He gave the coffee cup to Enjolras, who furrowed his brow, focusing on the cup.

“I will.”

***

The sky was turning cloudy, a slight chill causing Grantaire to shiver. He’d been wandering around the Jardin de Tuileries for a few minutes now, waiting for Eponine to show up. Soon enough, he caught sight of her dark coat, whipping around her as the wind picked up.

“Sorry, I had to do something. Gavroche needed a ride to school today, he had a big project and didn’t want to carry it.” Gavroche was her younger brother, a first year in high school. 

Grantaire smiled. “Was your car strong enough to carry it?” It was a shabby little vehicle that had seen better days...about fifty years ago. Grantaire had taken a ride in it once. It had felt like he’d signed a death warrant beforehand. Eponine punched him playfully.

“Shut up, I love that car. It gets me to work every day, doesn’t it?” Eponine wasn’t a student, she’d started working ever since she’d graduated high school. 

She’d met Grantaire when entered the clothing store she worked for. He’d needed her help looking for something to buy his sister for her birthday. Fifteen minutes later, he’d bought a dress and they’d become friends. Grantaire had found her to be rather aloof at first, but it turned out she had a lot on her mind most of the time. That suited him just fine; if they hung out there were comfortable silences between the two, and then more conversations. After a few months of friendship, Eponine had opened up a bit more towards him, about her life at home. 

It wasn’t pretty. She lived in a run down neighbourhood, barely getting by. Her parents were irresponsible people who had never made a cent of honest money in their lives, leaving her and Gavroche to basically fend for themselves. Her sister Azelma had run away from home a few years ago. They weren’t making ends meet with what little money her parents earned, scamming and stealing, so she’d had no choice but to work, to make some money for at least food. She didn’t always enjoy it. 

“If I could have,” she said wistfully sometimes, “I would’ve gone to college, I would’ve studied French, and maybe something with journalism.” 

Grantaire and Eponine sat on a nearby bench, watching a couple pass by.

“You have classes now, don’t you?”

“I decided not to go.”

“Was it the blond again?” Grantaire started indignantly at the question.

“What do you mean, again? You make it seem like it’s regular thing!”

“C’mon, R. I think I know you enough by now to realise what’s bothering you,” Eponine said with a roll of her eyes.

Grantaire nodded reluctantly. “I don’t really want to talk about him though. Not right now.” After all, he’d skipped class to get away from Enjolras for a bit. Eponine seemed to understand.

“One distraction, coming right up.” And with that, Eponine started talking about annoying, rude, and bossy customers, making Grantaire laugh. It didn’t distract him entirely from this morning’s events, but he would take what he could get at the moment. 

“There was this one man. He was looking for something for his wife for their anniversary, I think. Anyways, she’s been to the store before, she loves anything silk. This dude was carrying the ugliest outfit I’d ever seen. I think he was colourblind.” The way Eponine described him, it reminded Grantaire of Jehan. His friend had no sense of colour or pattern coordination, to his boyfriend’s dismay. His clothes were always mismatched, but he didn’t mind. In fact, Jehan rather enjoyed the way his blue striped sweater clashed with his bright orange pants, or when his yellow and purple clothes came together in a dreadfully vibrant ensemble.

“Did you end up helping him out?”

“Oh, yeah, but he insisted on keeping this one ugly necklace. I’m sure his wife will love it though,” Eponine said with a snicker. Grantaire’s mouth quirked up into a little smile. 

“Any other fashion disasters?”

“Mmm...a few, but did I tell you about the guy I met a couple weeks back? He had really pretty eyes, tallish, brown hair, freckles…” Eponine had switched the subject.

“No, but go on. Do you know his name?” Grantaire raised his eyebrows, curious. 

Eponine shrugged. “He had his last name on his bag. Pontmercy, I think. We’ve been talking for a while. He’s nice.” She smiled, and Grantaire winced. She liked him, and he doubted it would amount to anything.

“Don’t get too attached, ‘Ponine.” he warned. “I know him. Marius. He’s nice enough, but he’s crushing hard on this one blonde he met a while back.”

Eponine frowned. “Really?”

“He’s pretty much taken, she looks at him the same way. He’s oblivious to much else. Sorry.” Grantaire hated the look on his friend’s face, but there was no way he was going to let her get seriously heartbroken. He nudged her. “Hey, look on the bright side. We can start a lonely hearts club now.”

Eponine gave him a half-smile, followed by a sigh. She was strong, she’d get over it eventually. Grantaire hoped. He was pretty sure he knew what she was feeling though. It wasn’t nice. 

***

Anyone could tell Enjolras was distracted during the meeting that night. His level of enthusiasm was the same, no one could deny him that, but he’d stumble occasionally. That almost never happened. It was these small slip-ups that started getting Enjolras frustrated. At first he’d shake it off, then he’d laugh and play it off like he was just tired. As his speech went on he was visibly agitated, and after spitting out the details of the upcoming protest Enjolras sat down. He let his friend Combeferre handle the more technical part of the meeting.

At the moment he was outside the cafe, breathing in the cold air and trying to clear his head. Enjolras hadn’t seen Grantaire in their math class, and even though the cynic was here now, he wasn’t happy. His laughs were more forced, and he hadn’t said one snide remark all night.  
The blond shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to regain some warmth in his cold fingers. He absolutely couldn’t figure out how to apologise. ‘Sorry’ was too easy and always sounded insincere, at least to his ears. Sadly, it was the only thing he had at the moment. All eloquence slipped his mind when it came to Grantaire, unless it was during a fight.

So when he turned to go back into the cafe and saw Grantaire exiting, the only thing that came out of his mouth was a rather harsh, “Where are you going?”

Grantaire looked at him in shock before plastering a fake smile on his face and waving at the air nonchalantly. “The meeting’s over for me. Joly and Bossuet are busy thinking up how to charm a girl they’d seen, and everyone else is talking politics with Combeferre. Oh, and I was banned from drinking any more tonight. Anyways, it’s a free country, or it will be, once you get to it, so I’m going home.” He pushed past Enjolras, pulling his hoodie tighter around him.

“Did Courf notice?” Enjolras asked, hoping to stall Grantaire till he’d come up with an adequate apology.

“No. Just like you said, why?” Grantaire was halfway turned around, as if reluctantly acknowledging the conversation.

“Just wondering...Grantaire?” Enjolras approached the other man tentatively. “About what happened earlier today. I was just mad. This is important to me--”

“Then why do you want me there?” Grantaire cut in. “I want nothing to do with it, I’d probably just mess it up!” He had both hands tangled in his hair, as though Enjolras not understanding was driving him mad.

“You don’t have to go. It would be wrong to force you, and I’m sorry.” There, he said it. “But you’re wrong if you think you’d mess it up.”

“Enjolras, I think it’s dangerous. It could get out of hand. You’ve seen all the recent protests on TV, why do you think yours would be any different? Planning it’s fine and dandy, but even your last protest didn’t go exactly as planned. Bossuet broke an arm during a fight, remember?”

Enjolras bit back an angry retort. The man could poke holes in his plan all he wanted, but it didn’t matter. It was the only way anything would get done. When he voiced to Grantaire that they’d still go through it, he just shrugged.

“Whatever. If you get hurt, you won’t be getting a get well card from me.” Grantaire looked up at the sky, tapping his foot before adding, “You’d better go inside. You might catch pneumonia, or some other disease Joly’ll diagnose you with.” He turned back and padded off, and Enjolras’ shoulders slumped a bit. He wondered why Grantaire worried so much, watching him turn the corner before heading back inside, Combeferre meeting his eyes with concern etched on his face.

Enjolras just shook his head, and his friend looked away, leaving their leader to brood as the rest of the amis continued their cheer and conversations.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So kind of a short filler chapter. I hope you guys enjoy, the next chapter will be up in a couple weeks. :)

Grantaire threw random sprays of paint on the wall, nothing working for him. He’d gone out that night thinking it would relieve a bit of stress, but no such luck. He was still just as tense, feeling all wound up. Before he’d left his apartment he’d drunk quite a bit, not actually caring how much alcohol he went through. He hadn’t been thinking that clearly, working up a haze in his mind with the alcohol he’d downed, and his mind had now gone rather fuzzy. It was in this haze that he’d decided to go out and tag a little. 

His poor judgement call landed him in a shallow alley between two office buildings, a terrible place to be in should he come across any cops.

“Shit,” he hissed. A can fell out of his bag and clanged on the hard ground. He picked it up, shoving it back in the bag and glaring at the wall in front of him.

The colours on the wall were too sloppy to even be called abstract. It reflected his mood. Too jumbled and messed up to even understand what he was feeling.

He hadn’t talked to Enjolras in over a week. Meetings were tense and unbearable. He couldn’t talk, jokes would fall flat, and in the end he just stayed silent. He left the meetings early, unable to stomach being in such close proximity to the blond for any longer than an hour. And Enjolras?

He was the same as always, making pretty speeches to fire up the crowd. He didn’t glance Grantaire’s way twice on any given day, and when he did there was an unreadable emotion on his face.

Math class was worse, since someone had taken Enjolras’ old spot, he sat next to Grantaire. Sometimes he worked, but otherwise there was a scribbling he constantly worked on, shielded from Grantaire. There were no interactions between them.

Grantaire sank to the ground, running a hand through his hair. This sucked. He shouldn’t have his mood revolving around a person who barely spoke to him to begin with. He doubted Enjolras even cared. He buried his head in his arms, muffling his shout of anger.

He didn’t even notice the police car lights until they were flashing just outside the alley. There was no way he was getting out of this one. He had paint all over him and his supplies were still everywhere, so when the cop told him to put his hands behind his head, he did. Served him right for getting drunk and going on thoughtless trips.

***

“Enjolras.” It was after a meeting. Only he, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac had stayed behind to talk about the night’s successes. Enjolras swung around, away from the papers he was currently sorting, and met Combeferre’s gaze.

“What?” He wasn’t really in the mood for a lecture. He thought the meeting had actually gone well. He’d only slipped up twice tonight. _Who am I kidding._ He never used to mess up a speech at all. And he knew exactly why, though he hated admitting it. He couldn’t be that infatuated with Grantaire, that he would actually keep messing up. Unfortunately, it was the only explanation. Grantaire had been leaving meetings earlier and earlier, to Enjolras’ disappointment and chagrin. Once he left, that was when it started going downhill.

Combeferre must have seen the weary demeanor Enjolras held, but his frown held. “You can’t keep going like this.”

“Like what? I’m fine.” Enjolras tried to say it coolly; it didn’t work. Combeferre fixed his glasses, sighing.

“What happened between you and Grantaire?”

Just like that, the mask Enjolras had been hiding behind disappeared. He couldn’t lie to one of his oldest friends. He quickly recounted their argument from last week’s meeting, Courfeyrac nearing the two halfway in.

“Sounds like a personal problem,” Courfeyrac said with false sympathy. Combeferre raised his eyebrow. “I’m kidding. Geez. E, why is it you’re terrible with anything involving relationships? I thought I taught you this stuff second year of high school.”

“I didn’t let you.” Enjolras reminded him.

“Oh, yeah. Well, you need it now. You haven’t tried talking to him?”

“I did, he didn’t listen. Anyways, we’re busy now, this protest is more important than my romantic life.” Enjolras’ face was flushed.

Combeferre gave a huff of disbelief, and Courf snorted. “That’s rich. Enjolras, come on. We still have time for the protest. You can’t push everything else away like usual. One, that’s not healthy, and two, it’s gonna be a mess once the protest is over and you get back to your life.”

“I know we’ve been through a lot to get here,” Combeferre said firmly. “But you should fix things with Grantaire. So he struck a nerve. Just talk to him, it’ll work out.”

Enjolras shook his head. If he stopped focusing, there was a chance something bad would happen at the protest. “I can’t. I’m sorry, but we can’t mess this up.” He left his two friends behind him, getting his coat and picking up his papers. “Maybe if things were different, but he reminded me of something I’d chosen to ignore.”

“And what’s that?"

“Goodnight, guys.” Enjolras said, choosing to ignore the question. The answer didn’t stop running through his head as he walked home.

 _I’m scared of what could happen._

He’d been so confident all this time, but that one reminder was all it took. People could get hurt, and those people could end up being his friends. This was the one thought he couldn’t shake out of his mind.

***

“Grantaire!” Bossuet and Joly were running towards him, pushing through the doors to the police station. They’d bailed him out of jail, after he’d gotten his one call.

“Boss, I told you we weren’t gonna be late, you can’t be late going to a jailhouse! Now I’m sweaty,” Joly complained, tugging at his scarf to loosen it up a bit. His nose was already red from the chill in the air.

“Why don’t you take your coat off?” Grantaire suggested as he walked towards them, picking up his bag of paints. He and Bossuet knew the answer to that already.

Joly was already rolling his eyes. “I could get a cold that way, guys.” He noticed the look his two friends shared and pouted. Bossuet laughed, wrapping him up in a hug as the medical student squirmed.

“What’s up?” Grantaire asked after the struggling was at a minimum.

“Oh, yeah! You know the girl we were talking about?” Bossuet shifted his beanie up, eyes gleaming.

“What was her name again? Malerie? Magnolia?”

“Musichetta,” he was reminded by Joly, who still looked uncomfortable in his coat. Grantaire nodded. “We kind of...got to talking to her.”

Grantaire whistled, impressed. “It took you long enough. Did you get tired of just stealing glances and finally make a move?” And yeah, he realised just how ironic his words were. But these were his friends he was talking to, he was allowed to poke some fun at them.

“Actually, she was the one to make a move. We were at the cafe she works at,” Bossuet started. He started to smile. “Then she called our names to pick up our drinks.”

Joly bobbed his head up and down enthusiastically. “We went over, and actually started a conversation! Or, we tried to. Her manager was right there…”

“So we waited till her shift was over, and we all talked,” Bossuet finished. “She gave us her number.” He waved it in the air triumphantly. Joly plucked it out of his hand, the unlucky man was prone to losing things.

“That’s great.” Grantaire was happy for them. They’d been pining for a while now. “When do I get to meet her?”

“Whenever you would like, sir,” Joly said cheerfully. “I think she’d like you. And on that note...” his voice turned more serious at the badly-executed subject change. “Why have you been so quiet during past meetings?”

“It’s Enjolras, isn’t it?” Bossuet added. “What happened?”

Grantaire lowered his eyes. “Guys…”

“Just tell us, please. You’ve been like this gloomy cloud for a week and a half now.” Joly crossed his arms.

“It’s really nothing. We were talking about the protest. He and I disagreed about it. That’s it.” Both his friends didn’t look entirely convinced. “I’m not going to the protest. He got mad when I told him why. Now we aren’t talking.”

“That’s not even as bad as your usual fights, why are you guys still hung up about it?” Bossuet said incredulously. Grantaire just shrugged.

“We had been actually kind of talking before then. I don’t know, maybe he thought we could be friends, and I ruined it.”

Joly stuck out his lower lip stubbornly. “You need to fix it. You haven’t seen him, but whenever you leave he starts tripping over his words during speeches. The two of you need to talk, or something.”

“Consider it our payback for bailing you out of jail,” Bossuet suggested.

“That’s ridiculous,” Grantaire argued. “He wouldn’t mess up over me leaving. He must be getting sick or something.” He rubbed at his temple tiredly. “Thanks for bailing me out, but I think I should get home now. Please, don’t look at me like that,” he said to the two, who gave him incredibly sad eyes. He looked away from them, and that’s when he got a punch on the shoulder.

“You jerk!” Joly grabbed at his sleeve, trying to drag him. “C’mon Bossuet, we’re taking him back to jail. This is insubordination!” 

Bossuet just looked at Grantaire. “If you don’t do this, I will sell all your art supplies and tell Feuilly to change the locks on your apartment. I know he’ll do it.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“It works, doesn’t it?”

Grantaire gave them a long hard look. “And if it doesn’t work?”

“Abort mission and try again the next day.” That didn’t sound any better…

“Okay, fine. I’ll do it. Don’t blame me if it all goes to shit.” The group hug the brunet received didn’t lift his mood that much, but he couldn’t help but smile a bit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! One with...oops, but no spoilers, you'll just have to read it! ^¬^ Anyways, enjoy!

Two days before the protest everyone had been waiting for, Grantaire found himself at Enjolras’ flat, knocking even though he wasn’t sure the revolutionary would be there. What would he even say if he saw him? Would he panic and flee? Blurt out an apology?

When he actually opened the door, Enjolras just stood there. And Grantaire found himself in the same awkward situation. He forced himself to act before the door slammed in his face.

“Ah. Hi, Apollo.” He lifted the bag he was holding, full of paint and accompanied by two face masks. “It’s a nice night, and I figured you might want to send out a message before you went off to your demonstration.”

Enjolras fidgeted with the sleeve of his shirt, lips pressed together. “Why are you doing this?”

“It’s not just for you, if that’s what you’re wondering. I haven’t been out in a while.” Even though Grantaire might’ve seemed relaxed on the outside, he was tense. Their fight that night outside the cafe had felt similar as the usual, but Grantaire noticed that something was off. It wasn’t as heated, and instead of just anger between him and Enjolras, there was also confusion. For him, at least. So in part, this was a sort of truce.

“Let me get my coat,” Enjolras said after a moment, disappearing from the doorway. Grantaire leaned against the frame, letting out a breath and watching the fog in the cold air. Enjolras reappeared wearing a black windbreaker.

“Better than last time,” Grantaire said appraisingly. Enjolras brightened up a bit before a scowl returned.

“No one will see the message if we go to the same spot as last time.”

Grantaire nodded. “I know. There’s a place I know in the subway where people go a lot. I have some art there too.”

Enjolras locked the door to the apartment and they headed down the street. As it was a clear night in the city, they weren’t alone. People strode down the road, so their excursion looked less suspicious.

“So, what were you doing before you deigned to reward a mere mortal like myself with your presence?” Grantaire inquired, smiling at a couple of girls that met his eye. He noticed Enjolras stiffen beside him. Was he mad?

“If you must know, I was busy planning.”

“Mm.” Grantaire gave a small sigh. “Do you sleep at all?”

“Four hours most nights isn’t too bad. Better than spending them sleeping off alcohol.” 

“Defensive much? It was just for conversation’s sake.” Grantaire shook his head, used to it. 

Enjolras’ face was stormy. “This was a bad idea. I should just head back.”

“No. Something’s wrong, I can tell,” Grantaire insisted, putting a hand on the blond’s shoulder. Enjolras pulled back.

“It’s nothing. I’m just not in the mood.”

“Like hell you aren’t in the mood.” Grantaire’s hands balled into fists, expression hardening. “If you didn’t want to go with me you would’ve just said so. You’re worried about something.”

Enjolras glared, maybe he thought Grantaire was going to back down, but he was wrong. There was a small feeling of satisfaction when he saw Enjolras’ head drop in defeat.  
“I’ll tell you when we get to the subway, all right?”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Enjolras muttered, and the two resumed their walk.

It was starting to rain, people shrieking and reaching for umbrellas or running into nearby shops. Enjolras shook the rain out of his hair irritably, but Grantaire embraced the cold rain. He leant his head back, hoping to catch the rain on his tongue. Instead the raindrops hit his face like tiny freezing daggers. He watched Enjolras put his hood up out the corner of his eye and laughed.

“Is your hair going to get ruined?” He cooed at him.

“I could care less about my hair,” Enjolras grumbled, keeping his hood up. “Yours is going to look awful.”

“I absolutely always look awful,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “It’s part of my charm.” He gazed up at the sky, blinking away water. “Rainy nights always wake me up.”

“It’s great when you’re in the comfort of your own home. Under blankets and with a movie. Otherwise it’s just a bother.”

“What movie?”

“Not telling.”

“I’ll bet it’s Disney. One based in France. Beauty and the Beast, maybe? Oh, I know. Ratatouille.” Grantaire saw the faintest flicker of a smile on Enjolras’ face before a roll of the eyes.

The banter continued until they reached the subway, both men stopping their conversation.

“The subway should be empty tonight,” Grantaire said in a hushed tone. “We should be relatively undisturbed.” He started humming the mission impossible theme, sneaking along the wall and grinning at Enjolras.

“R, your hair’s all wet.”

“Oh yeah. Hold on.” Grantaire stood up, shaking his head like a dog and flinging water everywhere. Drops landed on Enjolras, who made a sound of protest. “Okay, I’m good.” He pulled off his wet hoodie, wearing a t-shirt with paint splatters underneath. From the bag he pulled out the face masks, giving one to Enjolras.

“I thought we might need these too,” Grantaire held a couple of headbands in one hand. “Especially you.” He motioned at the blond’s bangs. “They were getting in the way last time, I noticed.”

“Thought of everything, didn’t you.” Enjolras put both items on. In a muffled voice he added: “I look like a thug.”

“A cute thug,” Grantaire said without thinking. His eyes widened in surprise and mortification at what he’d said, and he was grateful of the mask he now had on. “I-I meant that, you know-”

“Grantaire, it’s okay.” Enjolras wasn’t looking at him, so Grantaire couldn’t gauge the blond’s reaction, but he didn’t sound mad… “Let’s start painting.”

“Sure. I’ll put up what you want, you haven’t done any practice since that first night.”

“Actually, I was practising. Small sketches, during math.”

Grantaire looked up, interested. “Really? That’s what you were doing in class? Do you have any on hand?”

Enjolras faltered. “Well, yes. On my phone, but it’s not that good…”

“C’mon, E. It can’t be that bad.” Grantaire took Enjolras’ phone once it was on a picture. “Oh.”

It wasn’t the best art, to be honest, but Grantaire tried to identify what was in the photo. “So you want me to draw a fluffy cloud?”

“Don’t be stupid. It’s supposed to look like a french cockade. Like during the Revolutions.” Enjolras explained with a dash of embarrassment. Grantaire had to smile, though the other couldn’t see it.

“Alrighty. A cockade with the words, ‘Fight for Your Freedoms’?” Enjolras nodded. “I like that idea. I think I’ll put it up. You might wanna practice some more, no offense. Anyways, aren’t you the one that pays attention in class?”

Enjolras shook his head impatiently. “I hate math. With a passion. I’m only in it for the credit.”

“Ah, I get it.” Grantaire brought out a can of black, shaking it and starting on the graffiti. “You still need to tell me why you were upset earlier. Stress?”

Enjolras sat on the ground, seeing as he wasn’t going to be of much use at the moment. “I was hoping you’d forget.” Grantaire raised an eyebrow, so he continued. “I thought about what you said at the cafe. To be honest, I am worried.”

Grantaire stopped painting, a faint outline done, and focused on Enjolras.

“I see everyone in the group, laughing and joking. They have lives of their own, outside of this,” he motioned to the paint on the wall. “But they stand with me. Each man, brilliant in his own way. If something were to go wrong, if someone got seriously hurt…”

“Hey.” Grantaire squatted down, taking in the expression his friend - he thought it was okay by now to call him that - wore. It was etched with worry. “Even though that could happen, they chose to go with you. You inspire them. And if you’re worried, how do you think they feel? All that matters is if you think the protest will succeed. Who knows, maybe believing it’s gonna be okay will make it come true.” By now Grantaire had his mask off to speak clearly, making sure Enjolras heard every word.

The blond blinked, as if seeing Grantaire in a new light. “I thought you were a cynic. I thought you thought this was all pointless.”

“It’s not up to me to ruin your ideas. I’m only one person, the least significant one in the group.” Grantaire spoke in earnest, hands on Enjolras’ shoulders. Enjolras shifted away, and for a second he thought he’d done something wrong.  
Enjolras took his own mask off, clearly wanting to say something. So Grantaire waited.

Xxx

How dare this man think himself insignificant? He believed it like it was a fact he’d accepted early on. It was obvious on some of his off days at the cafe, where he would glower and mutter quietly instead of laugh. It was those times that hurt Enjolras the most, and the truth was, Grantaire wasn't insignificant in the slightest.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras said slowly, blue eyes piercing. “You aren’t useless. You help ground me when my ideas are maybe too radical, when I lose sight of what’s actually happening. You’re at every meeting, even if you don’t like them. You’re even helping me with the cause now.” Grantaire started to protest, but he silenced the brunet with a firm look. “You have done just as much, if not more, as our friends.” He finished his speech and waited carefully, a little startled when he saw tears in Grantaire’s eyes.

In a second Enjolras found himself enclosed tightly in Grantaire’s arms. He could feel the silent sobs wracking the brunet’s body, his heart pounding in his chest. He returned the embrace, and the two sat there in the silent subway. Enjolras took in Grantaire, the feel of his damp hair against his cheek, the way he held Enjolras carefully, even though he was stronger, the smell of alcohol and cologne mixed together. To other people it might have been an odd, even repulsive scent, but to Enjolras it was a comfort. And he knew, no matter what, that he loved Grantaire.

When the two separated, Enjolras patiently waited for Grantaire to wipe away tears.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly.  
Grantaire nodded, and when he spoke his voice was rougher than usual. “Yeah. I’m sorry if I got tears all over you. I just…” he fell silent, but Enjolras didn’t need an explanation. How long had it been since Grantaire had been praised, or even given just a small, sincere compliment?

“R?” Enjolras leant towards the artist, lightly resting a hand on his shoulder. He realised how close he was, their foreheads were almost touching.

Grantaire’s eyes flickered away from Enjolras and towards him again, uncertain of what was happening.

“I want you to know that I’m the same as you, and you’re the same as me. I’m not more amazing. If anything, you are. And if your courage and wit isn’t something to admire, I don’t know what is.” With that, Enjolras closed the distance between himself and Grantaire, kissing him softly. He felt Grantaire’s gasp of surprise, and smiled against his lips when the brunet relaxed into the kiss. It was hesitant, and gentle, and perfect. Enjolras tilted his head, kissing Grantaire deeper, who willingly complied. At one point they leant a bit too far back, and almost lost their balance, but at the last minute, Grantaire propped them up, laughing against Enjolras’ lips. His other hand rested on Enjolras’ hip, as if to steady himself. Enjolras had one hand tangled in Grantaire’s hair, the other clutched to the front of Grantaire's shirt, as though the artist were a lifeline. From the back of Enjolras’ mind, a tiny voice reminded that they could get caught at any moment, but he pushed the thought away, too caught up in the present to focus on the future. 

Eventually they had to breathe, but Grantaire kept Enjolras against him, eyes bright. They rested against the wall, enjoying each other’s presence for a while.

“I really do love this, Enjolras,” Grantaire said, voice soft as a sigh. “But I’d rather not see you arrested two days before your big day, and we are in the middle of committing a crime.”

Enjolras laughed, having forgotten the reason they were actually there. Grantaire got up to resume his work of art, and the blond picked up a can of paint himself. He eyed Grantaire, recognising whenever the tagger’s eyes rested on Enjolras. He rose up and stood next to Grantaire, can in hand.

“Can I help? I feel useless just sitting here.”

“Enjolras.” Grantaire said this with exasperation mixed with adoration. “You are a revolutionary. Speeches and rallies are your thing, and you’re fantastic at it. Now let me show you what I can do.”

Enjolras pouted, something he never did. “Fine.” He painted a small stripe down Grantaire’s shirt in retaliation.

“You’re lucky this is my painting shirt. Otherwise I would’ve given you over to Javert himself.” Grantaire said loftily. “Now put your mask back on, the ventilation down here isn’t that great.”

 

Soon after the job was done, and both boys admired Grantaire’s handiwork. The colours were vibrant, the lettering clear and filled with swirls. Enjolras loved it.

“Nobody’ll be able to pass this without looking. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I do my best,” Grantaire said with a hint of pride. He added his tag at the bottom, a little smaller than usual. “You sign too, Enjolras.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“It was your idea, and you sketched the design. It’s yours as much as it is mine to show off.” He pushed the can into Enjolras’ hand.

Enjolras focused on the wall, wondering how to sign. Nothing too obvious, that was certain. He finally chose a square looking ‘E’ to put next to the ‘R’.

“Now it looks like it says RE,” Grantaire said. “Here.” He put a small plus sign in between the letters. “That’s better. Nice, my first collab and it’s a political statement. Who would’ve guessed.” He put his hands on his hips, looking at the art with a smile.

“And we weren’t arrested.” Enjolras was grinning from ear to ear.

“Let’s not tempt fate, Apollo. We should go. Hey, maybe this’ll pop up on the news.” Grantaire cleaned up, mask off and everything back in the bag. He pulled on his hoodie. “Ready?”

“I hope it’s still not raining.”

“I’ll buy you a pretty umbrella. One with fleur-de-lis and crowns.” Grantaire joked, and Enjolras sent him the most withering glance he could muster up.

“I wouldn’t let you step foot in the store. Monarchies are perfect examples of how corrupt-”

“-the higher ups of the world are. The people need to rise up, yadda yadda,” Grantaire finished. “I know, Enjolras. I have this speech memorised.” He winked.

“Don’t forget it,” Enjolras said with arms crossed.

The streets were empty when they left the subway. Rain still fell, though it was lighter now. The puddles reflected the streetlights, giving the streets a magical feel to them. Enjolras still kept his hood up, Grantaire left his off. In the quiet it was hard to concentrate, every car sound and far off siren was enough to make them jumpy and paranoid. At one point Enjolras slipped his hand into Grantaire’s, squeezing it tightly whenever a red or blue light flashed nearby. It wouldn’t have bothered him normally, but with the protest so close, well. He couldn’t afford a slip-up. Combeferre would kill him.

“Your place is farther away, isn’t it?” Grantaire murmured.

“Yes. I can walk alone though, if you want.”

Grantaire scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can stay at mine and Feuilly’s place. He won’t mind, you’re his friend.” That was true. Enjolras wasn’t quite sure exactly when he’d met the older student, but they’d had a lot in common, and soon after Enjolras had invited him to join the Amis. He had found Feuilly to be a sort of confidant outside of Combeferre and Courfeyrac, someone he hadn’t known since elementary school. And Feuilly was trustworthy, and a cheerful sort of person.

“I’ll stay with you then.” The novelty of the words on Enjolras’ tongue was sweet, and he relished the blush on Grantaire’s face as they walked on.  
The apartment was dark when they entered, snores audible from Feuilly’s room. Enjolras couldn’t see the room’s design, but it wasn’t the neatest, judging by the book he’d slipped on walking in.

When Grantaire turned on the light, his assumption was proved true. It was a maze getting into Grantaire’s room, but they made it.

“I’d sleep on the couch and give you the bed, but Feuilly was home alone, and I’d bet there’s soda and wine all over the seats. We’ll just have to share.”  
Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Oh no, you’ll get cooties,” he snarked.

“I might. Joly swears it’s a real illness.”

“Oh, well then I believe you. You’ll have to just sleep on the floor, I guess.”

“You must be tired, Apollo. You’re being sassy.” Grantaire pulled a shirt and shorts from his drawer and threw it towards Enjolras. “Only red shirt I have. You’re welcome.”

“Thanks. Do you have a bathroom?”

“Nope. We still use chamber pots.” Enjolras curled his lip in disgust at Grantaire’s words. “I’m joking, you dork. Of course there’s a bathroom. End of the hall.”

Once in the bathroom Enjolras did his best, brushing his teeth with a finger since he had no toothbrush. The red shirt was fit nicely, but his shorts were a little loose. His hair was a mess.

“Do you have a hairbrush?”

“Yeah. Are you actually gonna brush it now?” Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t want it to get more tangled. It tends to do that when I sleep.”

Grantaire laughed. “Okay, sure. It’s on the nightstand. I’ll be back in a minute.”  
Enjolras set to work brushing his hair, lightly getting tangles out, brushing harder when he lost patience with stubborn knots.

He was just getting in bed when Grantaire returned, and suddenly the weight of the night’s happenings fell on him.

“Grantaire, about what I did earlier. Um. I guess you know now that I have feelings for you.” Enjolras played with the edge of the covers, but his gaze was focused on Grantaire. “It’s fine if you don’t feel the same way. I’ve been pretty awful to you and-”

He was cut off by Grantaire pressing a finger to his mouth.

“Let me stop you right there, Enjolras. You must be more oblivious than I thought if you didn’t realise I reciprocated those feelings. Sure, you can be kind of a jerk, but I thought our arguments were fun most of the time. Don’t worry, you weren’t that bad, and what you said in the hallway, well.” Grantaire paused.

“What?”

“No one’s ever said anything like that to me. I was really happy.”

“It was all true,” Enjolras said, smiling. “So, would you want to be my...” He dropped off, blushing. Grantaire looked amused.

“Boyfriend? Significant other? Bae?”

“I would never use that word.” Enjolras recoiled at the thought, Grantaire laughed again. He thought a bit before saying: “Boyfriend. Would you be my boyfriend?”

Grantaire responded with a kiss, one that made Enjolras’ heart beat rapidly and gave him butterflies in his stomach.  
A loud snore broke them off, and they snickered.

“You should go to sleep now, E. You need more than four hours rest, and I doubt you’ll be sleeping at all tomorrow night.” Grantaire rested his head back on his pillow, gazing at Enjolras with a soft smile. Enjolras pulled the covers up over himself, nestling in them like a cocoon. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispered before closing his eyes. He fell asleep before he could hear Grantaire’s reply.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter, enjoy!

Grantaire woke up first, surprised to see he wasn’t shivering. He still had blankets over him, but that wasn’t what he’d noticed first.

What he’d noticed were two arms wrapped around him, a blond head of hair resting on his shoulder. He smiled, turning to check the clock on the nightstand. 8:30am. Still early, and there weren’t any classes today. He relaxed, trying not to wake Enjolras up, and closed his eyes, remembering the night before.

He’d thought it was going to end badly, since Enjolras’ mood had been so low. The rain had helped, it felt more light-hearted after that, but he’d never expected what had happened underground. Seeing Enjolras actually unsure about something was odd enough, he always made himself out to be confident and secure during meetings. The fact that he could actually be a vulnerable twenty-two year old sometimes was surprising. And then there was the whole thing where he’d called Grantaire helpful, and amazing...and the kiss. If the proof wasn’t wrapped around him at this very moment, Grantaire would’ve believed it all to be a dream.

He dozed until he felt Enjolras shift, his breathing changing as he woke up. He glanced over at the blond, who slowly opened his eyes.

“Good morning, R,” he said with a yawn.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Grantaire said.“You know, you slept for about nine hours. Is that a new record?”

“What time is it?” Enjolras carded his fingers through his hair, trying to tame it. It really was a little unfair, he looked amazing even just waking up. 

“Ten o’clock.” Grantaire stood up, stretching his arms up over his head.

“Hold on, come back.” Enjolras reached out, grabbing the hem of the brunet’s t-shirt and pulling Grantaire towards him. He pressed a kiss to his forehead. “There. Now you can get up.”

“I have your blessing to get up?”

“You have my blessing,” Enjolras said solemnly.

Grantaire bowed dramatically. “I thank you, sir. I’m gonna make some coffee, want some?” Enjolras murmured a yes, and he exited the room, closing the door behind him.

He’d forgotten about Feuilly. His friend was sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through his phone.

“Morning, R.” Feuilly looked up.

“Hey. How long have you been up?”

“Since about seven. There was a good movie on tv, and I didn’t want to wake you and Enjolras up.”

Grantaire froze in his tracks, having a mini heart-attack. “Oh?” His voice squeaked.

“I was going to wake you, Joly wanted to talk, but I saw you two and decided to leave it at that. Joly’ll call back later.” Feuilly looked amused. “Relax, it wasn’t like I didn’t know this was gonna happen. There’re a lot of people who owe me and Combeferre money.”

“Don’t tell anyone!”

“Don’t tell anyone what?” Enjolras’ voice piped up next to Grantaire, and he spun around.

“Hullo, E.”

“Feuilly. What are you two talking about?”

“Oh, just chatting about the money I’ll be receiving later on. We all had bets on when you two were going to get together.” Feuilly said flippantly. Enjolras narrowed his eyes.

“You haven’t told anyone, have you?”

“‘Course not. It wouldn’t be fair to you two.” Enjolras and Grantaire eyed him distrustfully. Feuilly raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, I told Combeferre, but I told him not to tell anyone. You’re fine, honestly.”

“Thank god.” At the look on Grantaire’s face Enjolras hastily added, “I can’t have people unfocused before the protest. That’s the only reason.”

Grantaire nodded. Their friends did have a talent for losing focus at inopportune moments. “We have the day off today, right? Why not have a picnic? Maybe we could invite everyone, a sort of get together before your big protest.”

Feuilly counted people off on his fingers. “Marius and Cosette, you know, the girl he’s head over heels with, are going on a date. Combeferre’s at a museum, and Jehan and Courf are at the park. We could have it there, I know Bahorel, Joly, and Bossuet are free. Courf won’t mind us interrupting. Probably.”

“Great! What do you say, Apollo?”

“I already said don’t call me that,” Enjolras said in exasperation. Then he smiled. “It could be fun.”

Feuilly grabbed his coat. “I’ll get Bahorel, he’s probably still sleeping. You guys tell Joly, and anyone else you can think of. We’ll meet up in an hour.” He left the apartment, Enjolras and Grantaire alone.

“I’ll get ready, we can go to your place after.” Grantaire kissed Enjolras on the lips before walking into his room. “The coffee’s on the stove, help yourself.”

Xxx

Enjolras and Grantaire had both decided to arrive at the park at different times, so as not to raise suspicions. Enjolras approached the picnic area to see Grantaire already sitting there with Jehan and Courfeyrac, as well as Joly, Bossuet, and a girl Enjolras had never seen before. There was easy conversation in the air, ranging from bad puns (courtesy of Courfeyrac) to complaining about classwork.

Once with his friends Enjolras sat next to Jehan, sneaking a glance at Grantaire as he greeted everyone.

He and Grantaire had held hands on the way to his apartment. Anyone who gawked was met with a glare from Enjolras, while Grantaire shyly averted his eyes. There were more stolen kisses once in the apartment, and a loss of focus that involved mussed up hair and semi-wrinkled shirts. Enjolras liked how Grantaire held him, cautiously, as though he were frightened of it only being a dream, but not without passion. In that way it fit the artist perfectly.

“Enjolras, you ready for tomorrow?” Jehan pulled him out of his thoughts. Everyone looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer from their leader.

The reply was smooth despite past nervousness. “Of course. It’ll be our biggest adventure yet, and it’ll be amazing. I’m sure once it gets into the news more people will rise with us,” he said confidently.

“Well, enjoy,” the girl, whose name turned out to be Musichetta, said, wrapping her arms around Joly and Bossuet. “I have a job, unlike you slackers, and I can’t get out of it. R, you wanna come over? You aren’t going, right? There’s a tv, so we could watch the protest, no doubt it’ll be breaking news.”

Musichetta, Enjolras found out, worked at a small cafe down the road from the park, as a barista. He’d never been, but apparently there was good coffee and free wifi, and a good environment for thinking. He’d have to visit sometime.

Grantaire smiled. “No, I’m not going to the protest. That’d be cool, thanks, I’ll be there.” 

Bossuet sighed. “It’d be nice not to break an arm this time.” His complaint was good-natured, anybody who knew the bald student knew he was accident prone. He thought it resorted to luck. He was superstitious like that.

“I wouldn’t mind a black eye myself,” Courfeyrac said winningly. “I think it’d make me look more rugged and handsome. What do you think, Jehan?” He drew his boyfriend closer, nuzzling into his neck as Jehan giggled.

“You’d only be whining about it the next day, Courf.”

“We’ve arrived!” Feuilly sang out, a small parade of people after him. Along with Bahorel, he’d found Eponine and Gavroche. They situated themselves around the circle of friends. “Did we miss anything?”

Solemn as a judge, Courfeyrac said: “E declared his undying love for me. Unfortunately I had to turn him down. I’m taken,” he sighed regretfully, earning a playful shove from Jehan.

“Please. The only thing he’d declare his his love for France,” Bahorel insisted.

Enjolras frowned. “Guys, I’m right here.”

Grantaire peered over a sketch he was working on. “It wouldn’t be half as fun if you weren’t, Enjolras. Like when we talk about old France. We all know how much you revere the absolute monarchs of old.”

All the amis gave a collective sigh. They all knew what was going to happen next. Enjolras almost hissed in disgust at Grantaire’s comment.

“Don’t you dare, Grantaire.”

“Who was your favourite? I think it was...Louis XIV?” Grantaire had a hand to his chin, as though he were in deep thought. His eyes went to Enjolras, and Enjolras knew how he wanted him to respond.

It worked. Anyone who wanted to live avoided talking about kings in front of the blond. Grantaire was lucky today, he was getting off with just a lecture.

“To have those filthy words come out of your mouth is blasphemy. It goes against everything we work for, against our cause. Louis XIV did nothing but steal for the poor for his gilded palace, a symbol of oppression of the people under his rule.” Enjolras’ voice grew progressively louder, until it neared a shout. Grantaire simply seemed amused. He waited till Enjolras finished his rant, which was about five minutes, when he actually felt the need to breathe.

“But Louis believed he was the state. France. And I do believe you’d marry France if you could. Are you hiding something from us?” Grantaire said conspiratorially. Everyone focused again on Enjolras.

Those words were absolutely ridiculous, especially coming from Grantaire’s mouth. Enjolras couldn’t help it, he gave a crooked smile. “To be honest, I’d probably rather marry Louis XIV, or France, than you.” When everyone’s gaze switched back to Grantaire, Enjolras winked at him. Only Grantaire saw it, and he blushed a deep red that stood out like a stop light.

“Enjolras, I think you broke him,” Gavroche had run up to Grantaire, who was still blinking in surprise.

“He’ll be fine in a moment,” Enjolras reassured the group, feigning indifference. “Now, on the subject of our rally tomorrow…”

Xxx

The picnic had gone relatively free of strife after his and Enjolras’ little...whatever it was, and Grantaire had to admit, it was kind of a nice change. He’d been drawing most of the time, his friends a subject that had turned into a beautiful sketch he had half a mind to hang up in his apartment. He’d also drawn a magnificent portrait of Enjolras. That he was definitely going to save.  
He’d thought about the little argument he and the blond had had. Never had a spat between them ended like that. Grantaire’s face had felt aflame after that infuriating little wink, signifying that the last words from Enjolras’ mouth had been in jest. He’d known Enjolras was charming when he wanted to be, but that was downright flirtatious. If Enjolras was more like that on a daily basis, he’d have people bowing to his every whim. Although, if he thought about it, Grantaire supposed he wouldn’t be Enjolras, fierce and loyal protector of the people, he’d just be like any other guy on the street. Still, he wouldn’t mind that side of the blond coming out every once in awhile. He sighed, more in love than ever with the revolutionary. 

Eponine nudged him. “You look like you just saw Aphrodite or something,” she whispered in his ear.

“She doesn’t compare in the slightest,” Grantaire said back, and Eponine rolled her eyes.

At five people started getting up to leave.  
“I have to get my outfit for tomorrow sorted out,” Courfeyrac had said while he and Jehan walked away. “I want to look my best for the camera, you know. Maybe, I’ll help you with an outfit too, Jehan.”

“Your fashion sense is worse than mine,” Jehan stated. It wasn’t true in the least, but Grantaire wasn’t going to be the one to tell him that. He, Enjolras, and Feuilly left last, making sure there was no trash left anywhere.

The setting sun lit up France in a fiery orange, looking beautiful. Grantaire held his boyfriend’s hand, swinging them back and forth while they strolled. Enjolras was listing what he needed to do tonight in order to be ready. Feuilly was only half-listening, Grantaire could tell, but he knew Enjolras was more reminding himself than having an actual conversation.

“Are you staying with us again, E?” Feuilly asked as they neared the halfway point between both Enjolras and their apartments.

“No,” Enjolras said ruefully. “It’d be better to go to my place tonight. I doubt I’m going to sleep, and you need your rest, so I’ll leave you alone.”

“Text if you need anything,” Grantaire suggested, waving his phone around.

Enjolras shrugged sheepishly. “I don’t have your number.” Feuilly rolled his eyes.

“I’ll text it to you. Then you can text your boyfriend.”

“Okay,” Enjolras agreed.

Grantaire didn’t really know what to say. ‘Goodbye’ or ‘goodnight’ wasn’t going to cut it, especially when tomorrow was going to be unpredictable. It turned out he didn’t have to initiate the farewell.

“I wish you would come with us tomorrow, R.” Enjolras said softly.

Grantaire shook his head. “That stuff’s not for me. I’ll root for you though. I think I’ll visit Musichetta at the cafe. Who knows, maybe they’re hiring.. You’ll most likely be on tv at that time, and we’ll watch.” He smiled reassuringly, wrapping his arms around Enjolras. The blond returned his embrace. “Try to get some sleep, even if you don't think you can.” They kissed, and judging by Feuilly’s awkward cough, it was for entirely too long, but Grantaire could’nt’ve cared less. Then Enjolras left, and he and Feuilly continued walking towards their own apartment.

“You know, we all knew this was gonna happen eventually,” Feuilly mused, “but you guys are more mushy towards each other than I thought you’d be. It’s like a romance movie.”

“Shut up,” Grantaire said, grinning all the same.

Outside the door to the apartment, there was a vibration from Grantaire’s pocket. There was a new message on the screen.

Unknown number: what should your name be on my phone?

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to be that kind of couple,” Feuilly said, looking over Grantaire’s shoulder at his phone.

Grantaire stuck his tongue out at his friend and replied: grand r? the artist? just r? He then changed the contact name.

Apollo: Pff, ‘just R?’ I like ‘Grand R’ better, but even that...how about ‘Taire?

Grantaire: cute. guess what your name is

There was a long pause; for a second Grantaire thought Enjolras was mad.

Apollo: Why do you always call me Apollo? It makes me feel like you put me on a higher level than yourself.

That’s why he hated it? Grantaire thought on the answer before replying.

Grantaire: besides the fact that you’re beautiful? I think it suits you. You’re fiery like the sun, bright, and sometimes you’re downright godlike. Also, the nickname kinda stuck

Apollo: You’re sure it’s just that?

Well, no, but he wasn’t going to say so. No matter what, Grantaire was sure Enjolras was the better person. Ever the optimist, always determined…

Grantaire: yep

He almost tripped going up the last step to the apartment, and Feuilly had to steady him.

“Give me that.” He took Grantaire’s phone and typed in a quick message:

R almost died texting you. Stop distracting him

“Feuilly, really? I just tripped, don’t be so dramatic.”

“You’re one to talk.” His friend tossed back his phone without waiting for a reply.

Apollo: Is he okay?

Grantaire: I’m fine. It was just the stairs

Apollo: …

Grantaire rolled his eyes.

Grantaire: Enjolras, i'm perfectly okay

Apollo: I believe you. Hey, R?

Grantaire: yeah?

Apollo: Do you think they figured it out at the park today?

Grantaire paused. It had been different. But they hadn’t said anything to hint at their being a couple, it was just one weird argument.

Grantaire: No, I don’t think so

Apollo: Good. I was thinking we could tell them after the rally. We could meet up at the Musain, if everything goes well

A smile came to Grantaire’s face. 

Grantaire: let’s do it

He settled on the couch, getting the feeling that if Enjolras was going to stay up all night, he wouldn’t be going to sleep anytime soon either.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Um, it's a little dramatic. Notes at the bottom if you want to see what's up, it might upset some people...anyways, enjoy!

The turnout for crowd attendance was astounding. There were at least a thousand all chanting for their rights. Pride filled Enjolras’ heart, and he couldn’t keep a grin off his face, recalling all he and the amis had worked for. Now it was coming true.

He’d be presenting his speech in a few short minutes. Already he could see news vans and reporters, a few asking him and a couple others questions. He responded honestly and confidently; there was no question he was on tv. He hoped Grantaire was watching.

“Monsieur Enjolras! A moment, please?”

“Can you spare a couple words, monsieur?”

Actually, it was a bit overwhelming, but it wasn’t anything Enjolras couldn’t handle. Combeferre came to the rescue afterwards, dragging him away to begin his speech. Once at the microphone, he cleared his throat. Everyone focused on him, a hush falling over the crowd. Show time.

“Citizens! Today we fight for our freedoms!”

Xxx

“Wow,” Musichetta breathed out, leaning over the counter to watch the cafe’s television. “He’s doing great.”

“He’s doing fantastic,” Grantaire agreed. He’d arrived at the cafe earlier that day, and applied and been hired for a job as a barista. Now he sat at a small table close to the counter, drinking an iced coffee Chetta had made him. “Everyone’s listening to him. He really is a god, isn’t he?”

“Not hardly,” Musichetta drawled. “He’s just good at making himself heard.”  
Then, as the cameras changed to the crowd, “Look! It’s Joly and Bossuet! Oh, my darlings are doing marvellously.” Grantaire could basically see the heart eyes.

“Would you look at how many people showed up? Bahorel really worked hard this time.” The student was known for getting around to other associations and persuading them to support the amis. Grantaire marveled at the screen, almost regretting that he hadn’t gone. Enjolras’ voice rang out clear and true through the speakers, and most of the eyes in the cafe were riveted to the screen.

It had turned out many people had seen the art in the subway, and right before the protest had come on tv, the reporters showed images of the graffiti. Grantaire had loved it, it was wonderful when his art was noticed. And this time, he'd had a bit of help. Because of the more political message the art carried, it turned out more people than expected had arrived at Enjolras’ protest. He must have been ecstatic at the size of the crowd.

As Enjolras was reaching the climax of the speech, a strange popping sound was heard in the background. The leader in red paused and narrowed his eyes, cameras zooming in on the back of the crowd, who had started flurried movements as voices rose.

“Were those gunshots?” Grantaire asked warily, turning to Musichetta.

Xxx

“Combeferre, what’s going on?” Enjolras asked as he and Courfeyrac neared him on the stage.

“You need to stop the speech for now.” Enjolras stepped down, and Combeferre continued. “Feuilly and Bahorel are in back, someone fired a gun into the crowd, we’re not sure who yet. The police are there, they’re trying to barricade everyone in. It’s chaos.” The bespectacled man’s usually calm demeanour took on a more nervous edge.

“Courf, tell Bahorel and Feuilly to get out of there,” Enjolras commanded. More shots could be heard, and by now the panic in the crowd could be seen clearly. It was like a stampede, people running this way and that. Joly ran up towards the trio, looking frantic.

“I lost Bossuet! We got separated in the mess!” Joly’s eyes were wild and filled with concern, turning to get a better view. “I called his phone, but he isn’t answering!”

“We need to leave, Enjolras,” Combeferre said over the noise. “We planned to meet back at Corinth if this happened, remember?” The Corinth was a less used meeting place of theirs, closer to the working district of Paris.

“Fine.” Enjolras reluctantly nodded and got off the makeshift stage.

“Enjolras!” Jehan called. He carried a limp Bossuet in his arms, nursing a bloodied face.

“Jehan!” Courfeyrac put his phone away and hugged the injured man, trying not to touch his face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but Bossuet got in a fight. He’s knocked out. We should get him to a hospital, maybe he’s got a concussion.”

“What about the others?” Enjolras was getting agitated by the flurry around him. His friends were all separated, and judging by Courfeyrac’s expression earlier, they hadn’t answered the phone.

“They’ll be alright, they can take care of themselves. Right now we need to worry about getting through this mob,” Joly insisted, starting to push his way through, Courfeyrac and Jehan helping carry Bossuet behind him.

“We should go, Enjolras,” Combeferre warned again. An injured protester had approached them for help, and he was now holding him up. “Too many people are getting hurt.”

“You go. I’m going to look for our friends.” Not waiting for an answer, he slipped into the crowd.

Xxx

“I have to go see if they’re alright,” Grantaire was putting on his coat. Musichetta did the same.

“No, Chetta, you need to stay here. What if you get hurt?”

“You could too!” The woman’s eyes were full of anger and distress. “I can help, and I need to see if Joly and Bossuet are okay!” She ran out before Grantaire, rushing down the street towards the protest. Grantaire followed her, running as if hellhounds were on his tail.

Enjolras is okay, he thought as he dodged cars and people running in the opposite direction. The rally was a ways away, but no one was going to keep him from reaching it. Musichetta was just ahead, shouting for people to clear the way.

The roar of the crowd got louder as they drew nearer, sirens wailing and people yelling. Grantaire felt sick to his stomach, wondering what had happened to everyone. Musichetta had run towards the front, but not before promising to text R where to find her later. Grantaire had shoved right into the crowd, pushing past people to try to find his friends. He hoped they were already out, but that glimmer of hope was drowned out by the rotten feeling in his gut. Most of his friends were usually the kind of people who stayed behind and helped.

A flash of familiar faces appeared to him, and he changed directions, only to find Feuilly and Bahorel stumbling through.

“Are you guys okay?” He shouted over the noise. Both men turned towards him, relief on their faces.

“We were stuck in the back when the shooting started. I think Feuilly broke his nose.” Bahorel gestured to the other student, who was bleeding heavily.

“C’mon then. Musichetta’s waiting for us at the front.”

“R!” The three turned around to see Enjolras rushing towards them, face lit up like the sun. “Thank god you guys are all right. We need to go. Now. The police are shutting down the area.”

“Enj, Chetta’s still in the crowd,” Grantaire explained, before taking out his phone and texting her.

“Tell her to come to Corinth. Joly and Bossuet are probably already out. Everyone’s heading over there,” Enjolras said, leading them towards the edge of the crowd. He’d taken hold of Grantaire’s hand, and Grantaire held Feuilly’s arm, so no one got lost or pushed away.

They were almost out when a clear gunshot rang out.

Feuilly cursed, expression dark. “I thought the police took care of that.” The group picked up speed.

Outside the crowd was thinner, but still people ran in scattered directions, occasionally knocking into them. Enjolras sighed in relief.

“We’re clear. Now all that’s left to do is-”  
A deafening shot rang out, startling all of them. It was Grantaire who first noticed the shock in Enjolras’ eyes, followed by pain. The blond looked down, seeing crimson staining his coat.  
Enjolras’ legs gave out from underneath him, eyes fluttering weakly shut. 

Grantaire didn't hesitate in catching him before he hit the ground. His breath hitched in the back of his throat, him barely believing what he was seeing. “Enjolras!” He shook Enjolras slightly. “Fuck, Enjolras, wake up! You're gonna be alright!”

“R, we'll get him to a hospital.” Bahorel seemed to be struggling with disbelief as well. He punched numbers into his phone, calling for an ambulance. They moved off to the edge of a surrounding building, not talking at all, numb at the events. Grantaire held Enjolras closer, tears streaming silently down his face.

When the ambulance arrived, which wasn't very late, as all of them were in the area by this time, Grantaire didn't hesitate in getting Enjolras into the back of the vehicle. 

“R, you'll take care of Enj, right? Musichetta is close by, I think we'll all head to Corinth together,” Feuilly said. When Grantaire nodded, Feuilly and Bahorel left, leaving him and Enjolras in the back of the ambulance, doors closing as the car started.

“C'mon, Enjolras, you'll pull through,” he half assured, half pleaded as he watched the faint, almost imperceptible rise and fall of the blond’s chest. He'd gone pale, sweat shining on his forehead. Grantaire took one of his hands, feeling how clammy and shaky it was. It was a nightmare, he'd known this could happen, but never had he dreamt it would be Enjolras collapsing on the street. Grantaire looked over at his shoulder, now covered by a bandage. It didn't look that bad at first, there was just so much blood…

Every moment they took getting to the hospital ended up breaking Grantaire's heart a little more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, someone gets shot. You've been warned.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! Sorry for the delay...  
> One chapter left after this. Thank you guys for all the kudos, you're all fantastic! :)

“What do you mean, Enjolras’ in the hospital?” Courfeyrac demanded, the rest of the Amis as tense as he was.

Bahorel rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, avoiding the intense stares. “He kinda got...shot.”

“What?!” Combeferre cursed, a rare occasion for him. “I told him we had to leave. How did it happen?”

“I--”

“Shh...you guys, Grantaire’s calling,” Musichetta had made her way to Corinthe with Feuilly and Bahorel. Once they’d arrived, she’d gotten extremely annoyed that no one had bothered to tell her Joly and Bossuet were currently in the hospital. “How’s Enjolras, R?”

“Grantaire’s with him?” Jehan whispered. Everyone shushed him.

“I guess he’s okay. He’s stable, at least. They didn’t take out the bullet, apparently it was too dangerous, but man, he lost a lot of blood, Chetta. He was in shock, it was awful,” Grantaire’s voice was heard over speaker. He sounded exhausted, his voice dull.

“R, what hospital are you at?” Feuilly asked.

“Um...Hospital Saint Louis, I think. Yeah, it’s Saint Louis.”

Combeferre walked over to the phone. “That’s where Bossuet is...Can we see Enj?”

“He’s asleep now, they put him under for the pain. The nurse kicked me out just for this call. Oh?” Grantaire’s voice became muffled for a few moments, another voice faintly audible. “She says to visit tomorrow, and let E rest a bit more.”

“But he’s okay?”

“Yeah.” There was a smile in Grantaire’s voice. “He’s gonna be fine. I’ll call later to check up on you guys. Are you all okay?”

“Well, besides my broken nose…” Feuilly said, “Bossuet was unconscious, Joly took him to the hospital as you, if you wanna visit.”

“I’ll do that. Talk to you soon.” Grantaire hung up, and Musichetta put her phone away.

“I thought Grantaire didn’t go to the protest,” Courfeyrac inquired, looking over at her. The girl shrugged.

“We weren’t going to, but then we saw everything go wrong and we went to find you guys.”

Courfeyrac snorted. “More like R went to go find Enjolras. Which reminds me: did anyone notice they’ve been acting differently towards each other?”

Combeferre and Feuilly exchanged eye contact before looking away. “What do you mean?”

“We all saw them at the picnic,” Jehan reminded the amis. “Their argument ended with Enjolras actually grinning. Did they finally get together?”

Everyone looked at Feuilly, who rolled his eyes behind his bloodied handkerchief. They all knew he was close with both Enjolras and Grantaire.

“Guys, that’s not my story to tell. If it’s that important you can ask them tomorrow.”

Courfeyrac nodded, smirking. “I plan to. It’s not every day Enjolras falls in love.” 

Xxx

Enjolras woke up with a strong, throbbing headache. He winced as he lifted his head up to look around the room. A hospital room…

The last thing he remembered was an astounding pain in his shoulder and fearful expressions on his friend’s faces. Then...black, and now this. An actual bullet wound, he mused as he felt the steady burning sensation around his shoulder and upper chest.

With a bit of a struggle Enjolras got himself into a sitting position, seeing flowers and cards on the table next to him. He picked up a card, recognising Jehan’s spidery scrawl. Another card proved to be Courfeyrac’s, with a joke and a rather blunt question that brought blood rushing to Enjolras’ pale mien. The cards were filled with “get well soons” and “feel betters”, bringing a smile to his face.

Low murmurs from behind the door caught his attention, followed by Grantaire and Joly walking in.

“Look who woke up,” Grantaire said with a grin. “It took long enough, sleepyhead. You scared me half to death.”

Enjolras looked down guiltily. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Feuilly and Bossuet got hurt, and probably others at the protest too-”

“That’s not your fault, Enjolras.”

“Bossuet and Feuilly are fine,” Joly added reassuringly. “All they really needed was rest.” He saw the look on Enjolras’ face and turned to Grantaire. “I think this is making him feel worse. We should let him keep resting, this is too much for now.”

“No, you guys, stay,” Enjolras cringed as he shifted on the not-entirely-comfortable bed. Grantaire sat next to him, Joly choosing a seat on the side of the bed.

“What time is it?”

“Ten in the morning. You’ve been asleep since one o’clock yesterday, Apollo.” Grantaire took Enjolras’ hand, kissing it gently. “Everyone’s been wanting to see you, you know.”

Joly’s eyes widened, noticing the affectionate gesture, but at the look the brunet gave him he just looked pleased and said, “They came up earlier, but were told not to wake you. I think Courfeyrac insisted on waking you. That was when everyone dragged him out.” 

He laughed a little. “When do I leave?”

“Tomorrow, if everything’s in order. You just need to relax for now, really.” Grantaire said.

Joly got up. “I need to get back to Bossuet, but I’ll come back later, Enjolras.” With one last look he walked out the door.

“So,” Grantaire looked Enjolras in the eye. “I think you know that if you ever scare me like that again, I probably won’t talk to you ever again.”

“Ever?”

“...maybe for about a week.” Grantaire said, relenting a bit. Enjolras smiled.

“I know I messed up, but I’m just glad it wasn’t you, R.” He lightly traced the curve of his boyfriend’s hand with his thumb.

“I wish it had been,” Grantaire sighed. “But at least there’s no real harm done. You’ll be pretty weak in your left arm, at least until it’s healed. And oh, no more protests for a while.” Grantaire fixed him with a stern look.

“Are you my nurse now?” Enjolras teased. Grantaire shrugged.

“If I have to be. Are you against it?”

“Not unless you come in with an official uniform. I’d kill you.”

“Sure, sure.” Grantaire waved the threat away nonchalantly. “By the way, in terms of good news, I got a job!”

“Really?”

“Musichetta’s cafe had an opening, and I was hired.” Grantaire said proudly.

“R, that’s fantastic.” Enjolras squeezed Grantaire’s hand warmly.

“Thanks, I think so too.”

“Now I’ll get free coffee every day, right?” Enjolras joked. Grantaire laughed, a rich sound that filled Enjolras’ ears and made him fall in love with the artist even more. When he pulled on Grantaire’s hand to bring him closer, the kiss they shared was the sweetest one yet.

Xxx

It turned out Grantaire had to wake Enjolras up for the amis’ next visit. Poor guy, he was probably catching up on sleep he’d lost since he was a senior in high school.

“You ready to see your friends?” He asked as Enjolras blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

“Definitely.”

The door swung open once Grantaire called for them to come in. Even Bossuet, who’d been released yesterday evening, walked in, hand-in-hand with Joly.

“Hey, guys,” Enjolras greeted the amis warmly, receiving a ton of hugs in return.

“You could have died!” Feuilly exclaimed, punching Enjolras lightly on his good arm.

“You’re always so stubborn,” Combeferre added, but he couldn’t keep from grinning.

“Yes, we can all see he’s okay, great,” Courfeyrac butted in. “But I have a very important question.”

“Courf,” Combeferre said warningly, but it was too late.

“How long have you and Grantaire been dating?” He asked, arms crossed. The room was still, Enjolras looking slightly embarrassed, but not surprised. It seriously wasn’t the right time for the interrogation. Still, curiosity took over in that moment. Only Marius looked genuinely confused.

“Did I miss something?”

“Only the fact that E and R have been closet boyfriends. So spill.”

“Guys...” Grantaire glanced over at Enjolras, who, although blushing, had a thoughtful expression on his face. What was he going to say?

Finally the blond said, “I think about a week now. Right, R?” Grantaire blinked, now he was in the spotlight, everyone waiting for his response. He grinned sheepishly.

“I’d say so. Since the night we went tagging.” Grantaire got to enjoy the combination of anger and happiness on their friends’ faces. It was an odd mix, but then, he supposed it was an appropriate one.

“You two are unbelievable,” Courfeyrac huffed. “I thought you were going to keep pining over each other till we were old and grey.”

Grantaire tried not to laugh as Enjolras, a man who never faltered during speeches, turned red as a tomato under an interrogation involving romance.

“We weren’t that bad…”

“You kinda were,” Bahorel muttered from the back of the group. Everyone burst into laughter, Enjolras turning redder. Even Grantaire knew he himself had gone a little pink, but he joined in the laughter, the happy feeling infectious. Even if they hadn't told their friends, everything would have been found out sooner or later. He reached for Enjolras’ hand, giving it a squeeze. Enjolras beamed.

“Alright, guys. Ready to get Enjolras back to our humble abode?”

“I’ll pay for drinks at the Musain,” Feuilly said. “My treat for both Enjolras and all these sore losers who lost twenty dollars to me and Combeferre!” He cheerfully ignored the half-hearted glares directed at him.

“It’ll be a party!” Bossuet added. “A perfect welcome back!” Everyone cheered, after all, who could resist a party?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So turns out I wrote another chapter on a whim, so this is the second to last chapter. As usual, enjoy! Don't be afraid to comment or visit/say hi to me on Tumblr @frenchrevolutionenjoltaire ^¬^

The Cafe Musain was full of cheers and laughter as the celebration party commenced. Besides the fact that they were celebrating for Enjolras’ and Bossuet’s recoveries, they had also found out that after three days of running, the shooter had been caught and was now in court, facing a lifetime sentence in prison. The happy atmosphere was infectious; no one could keep a smile off their face.

Enjolras was currently watching the news, enjoying how much publicity the protest had gotten. It was mostly good news, although one gendarme in particular didn’t see the protest as noble, but as a disruption of the peace. His opinion was unpopular, and widely ignored.

His arm still hurt a bit, it would for a while yet, he was told, but it was nothing compared to the elation at the moment. He settled back in his chair, letting the noise in the cafe wash over him for a moment. 

Bahorel and Courfeyrac were laughing at a story Bossuet was recalling, Joly at his side to keep the tale slightly realistic. Musichetta was engaged in a conversation with Cosette and Eponine, heads low as they spoke in hushed voices. Combeferre, Feuilly, Jehan, and Marius sat in a corner, playing poker. Jehan was hopeless at it, from the sounds of despair he was making. Marius, surprisingly, had the second largest pile of chips. Feuilly was in first, but no doubt Combeferre had something up his sleeve. He had a talent for winning games at the last minute to everyone’s irritation. All-in-all, it was a high energy, upbeat night. Enjolras wouldn’t have given it up for the world.

A seat scraped the floor next to him, and he knew exactly who it was. He decided not to open his eyes, seemingly unsuspecting.

“Apollo,” Grantaire said in a whimsical sort of tone. “You can’t be asleep, surely. It isn’t even midnight yet.”

“I’m not asleep, I’m just enjoying the atmosphere.” Enjolras cracked one eye open. His boyfriend was sat across from him, holding a bottle and wearing a grin.

“You can’t appreciate it sitting down. Come enjoy it with me,” the brunet said, putting the bottle down, trying to tug Enjolras away from his chair. “I’m in the mood to dance, what do you think?”

“I think that my arm is in a sling, so I probably shouldn’t be dancing,” Enjolras said, trying to pull away. Grantaire was insistent though, refusing to give up so easily.

“I’ll be super careful, I promise.”

“I don’t even know how to dance, I’ll fall on my face.”

Grantaire shook his head. “I’ll hold you up. I happen to know how to dance, I took classes a while back. Boy, do I have stories to tell you about that…” He gave an exaggerated shudder, scrunching his nose up. Enjolras raised an eyebrow. What had happened during those classes?

“R? You okay?” Grantaire nodded, giving a reassuring smile. 

“Pff, I’m fine, just being dramatic. They're actually pretty funny stories, but I'll tell you another time, when it’s super cold and we have nothing to do but sit on the couch huddled under blankets. Anyways, I’ll help you.”

“This isn’t even dancing music,” Enjolras protested in a last-ditch attempt, dragging his feet slightly.

“You can dance to anything if you put your mind to it.” Grantaire’s mind was clearly made up, Enjolras wasn’t getting out of this. To Jehan the artist called, “Bring Courf and come dance with us!” Jehan was only too happy to oblige, abandoning the card table and dragging Courfeyrac towards the centre of the room, which was clear of furniture. They were followed by Marius, Cosette, Bahorel, and the rest, everyone apparently in the mood for a little dancing.

“Look what I’ve started,” Grantaire crowed. Eponine had taken control of the music, putting on an upbeat sort of tune. It was easy enough to get into, but Enjolras didn’t know where to start.

He felt himself being tugged gently, turning in a small circle with Grantaire.

“I’ll bet you never even went to a dance,” he murmured in the blond’s ear.

“I’ve been kind of busy.”

“Mhmm.” Around them all their friends were jumping and bopping to the beat, but the way Enjolras was being held, it felt more like a slow dance. It was like being in the eye of a hurricane, he and Grantaire were the eye of the storm, calm, focused only on each other. He let it happen, resting his cheek against the top of Grantaire’s head, the latter nuzzled against Enjolras’ neck. There were whistles and jests in the background; somehow it was easy to ignore them in that moment. 

“Your dancing is great, see?” Grantaire said once Enjolras had gotten the hang of it. Which meant he wasn't tripping over his or Grantaire’s feet too much. Grantaire had tried teaching him a simple waltz, apparently any metre-in-three song could be waltzed to if necessary. The artist was leading, making sure Enjolras’ arm was okay and that they didn't bump into anyone. At one point he tried to twirl Enjolras, resulting in an awkward movement that was hard not to laugh at. Enjolras’ ears had turned red, but Grantaire only grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek and reassuring him that he did fantastically. After that they didn’t try any more twirls, but it was fun all the same. He was mostly leaning into Grantaire as they swayed, looking down occasionally to make sure he didn’t stumble. However much he had complained about dancing, he was actually enjoying it. Not that he would admit it.

 

Following an hour of hyper jumping and odd dances, everyone returned to their seats, sweaty but gleeful as they filled up on alcohol and food. Enjolras rested his head on Grantaire’s lap, the brunette softly playing with his hair. It was past midnight already, and people had started yawning mid-conversation, drink driving a couple to odd little murmurs and random giggles.

Enjolras’ eyes were half-lidded as he tried to fight off sleep, but it was so calm and relaxing…

“Hey.” Grantaire gently shook him awake. “If you’re falling asleep we should get you back home. I have a surprise for you in the morning.”

“A surprise?” Enjolras said quietly, only half-listening.

“Yeah. I know a different place for tagging. But it won’t be any fun if I can’t get you up and about in the morning. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this tired. Must be all the events going on…” He watched as Enjolras sat up, rubbing blearily at his eyes. “You ready to go?”

“Are you going to stay the night?”

“Do you want me to?” Enjolras nodded. “Then I’ll go home with you.”

“Right. Let me just get my coat and say goodbye to everyone.” Enjolras stood, swaying slightly on his feet. Grantaire put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“How about I get your coat?”

“No, I can do it, really,” he protested. “I’m fine.” He walked over to his coat, trying not to stumble. And to think, he hadn’t even had anything to drink. As he walked he said goodbye to his friends, smiling at their well-wishes and gaiety.

The stars were bright in the cold air when they exited, not yet covered by oncoming clouds. Enjolras wished he’d brought something a little warmer than his hoodie. The breeze had woken him up a bit, teeth chattering. He’d never really liked the cold, there wasn’t much one could, or wanted, to do in frigid temperatures. Thank gods he didn’t live too far from the cafe. His hands were a little warmer, one in his pocket and the other in Grantaire’s hand. Grantaire was humming a little tune, sometimes singing a couple words with a slight slur. His cheeks were red, though whether from spirits or the cold, he couldn’t tell. His glee was apparent, charming to see. It made Enjolras grow warm, happy to see Grantaire so cheerful. 

The artist caught Enjolras’ eye, corners of his mouth lifting up. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Enjolras said simply. “Just admiring the view.”

“The stars are beautiful, aren’t they?”

“That’s not what I meant.” 

Grantaire laughed. “I know, Enjolras. I was joking.” He wrapped an arm around Enjolras’ waist, pulling him closer. “Besides, the stars pale in comparison to you.” Enjolras rolled his eyes, but he felt his cheeks grow hot as he blushed.

Snow had started falling softly, a rather picturesque scene while they walked, catching snowflakes on his scarf and eyelashes. Grantaire’s hair and coat was covered in snowflakes, too cold for them to melt away. 

No one was on the streets, although no doubt markets were crowded as people bought Christmas presents for loved ones. It was coming up fast, the holiday feel in the air, especially as the frozen crystals drifted down to earth. Small wisps of snow swirled on the streets, picked up by the wind. Windows had frosted over, children drawing small designs in their bedrooms, forming words and snowmen. It was serene, everything slowly turning white, silent save their footsteps. 

They reached the apartment, Enjolras opening the door. Fortunately he’d kept the heat on, the flat warm in contrast to outside. Entering, he flipped on the light, wanting nothing more than to get to bed. He kept ahold of Grantaire’s hand as he strode in, pulling him to the bedroom.

“Um, Enj? Are you going to bed in those clothes?” Enjolras hardly glanced down to look at his outfit. It was cold enough, and clothes were clothes. He might regret it in the morning, but at the moment he didn’t bring himself to care. All he did was kick off his shoes before sitting on the bed.

“Probably.” He gave an enormous yawn, eyes tearing up. “Come on, I want to sleep.”

“Alright, alright.” Enjolras pulled back the covers, tugging them over himself once he was in bed. Grantaire followed, taking off his coat. Enjolras burrowed against him, not bothering to fight off another yawn. He felt like he could sleep for at least a day. The weight of the week’s events had suddenly hit him like a train, adding to his exhaustion. He could barely keep his eyes open. Grantaire looked at him amusedly. “Are you tired?” he teased. 

Enjolras couldn’t even retort, he was on the verge of unconsciousness. “Good night, R. See you in the morning,” he mumbled.

“G’night, E.” If any words were said after that, Enjolras didn’t hear, his exhaustion finally taking over with dreams.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so this is the last chapter, thanks for sticking with it! I hope you guys enjoy, I really loved writing it! ^¬^  
> *

Sunlight streamed through the thin curtains of Enjolras’ bedroom, causing him to wake up. He shifted, opening his eyes. Grantaire was gone, the covers wrinkled on his side. On his pillow was a note, though, and Enjolras picked it up.

_Hey, Enj. You looked so tired last night that I didn’t want to wake you, but I needed to go home and get ready for work. I’ll be working till three, and then I need to fix something for tonight, if you’re up for it. Meet me over by the Place des Vosges around five._

_P.S. No planning for more protests. Take this day to enjoy yourself. Wander around Paris, maybe. Just relax. XP_

_P.P.S. There’s fresh coffee for when you wake up_

Enjolras sat up with an exhale. That left a whole day to do...what, exactly? 

He glanced at the clock: 10:30. Might as well start the day, now that he was awake. He padded into the kitchen, the floor cold against his bare feet. He found the coffee Grantaire had made, a fresh pot just waiting on the table. He poured himself a cup, feeling the warmth from the mug. He took a small, cautious sip. It was just cool enough to enjoy, he realised. He sat at the table. Looking out the window, he watched the people walking on the sidewalks. Many wore scarves and hats. It was cold, despite the deceptively warm sunlight. Just looking at them made Enjolras shiver.

He finished his coffee, placing his mug in the sink. Time to get out of his wrinkled clothes and actually do something. Maybe he’d visit Grantaire for a bit, and then come back home and read. There were a couple books he’d bought but had yet to read, and today would be the perfect day to finally start them. But first he had to get dressed. He put on clean clothes, deciding not to wear his sling. He'd be careful, and he'd had enough of having to do things one-handed. Besides, he could move his arm just fine, if he was gentle. Now where was his scarf? After couple minutes searching, he found it on the couch, wrapping it around and heading to the door.

He’d been right, it was cold outside. Every breath he took was visible in the chilly air, the wind nipping at his nose. He pulled up his scarf with a small grumble. He might as well start walking, it was a ten minute walk to the cafe Grantaire and Musichetta worked at. Keeping up a brisk pace, he headed down the street. Last night’s snowflakes had turned to snow and slush overnight, crunching under his boots. It was more snow than he’d seen in a while, more than the dustings they usually received. Thank gods he’d worn his water-proof ones. He passed kids making small snowmen in the park, throwing half-solid snowballs at each other and giggling.

When he finally got to the cafe, there was a long line leading to the counter. Everyone was ready for a fix of warm coffee to ward against winter, people muttering under their breath as they rubbed their hands together for warmth. At the counter was Grantaire, all charm as he took each person’s order, not seeming to buckle under the pressure. Musichetta manned the espresso machine with extraordinary skill and precision. He waited as the line got shorter, each person walking away with a hot drink in hand. There were only a couple people in front of him when Grantaire finally noticed him standing there, eyes widening slightly before grinning. Once Enjolras was first he leaned on the counter, waiting expectantly. He batted his eyelashes at Enjolras, causing him to blush.

“Well? What can I get for a cutie like you?”

Enjolras tapped at his chin thoughtfully, struggling to keep from smiling. “A ‘good morning’ would be nice, if you have any.”

Grantaire laughed. “I have that and more.” He pulled Enjolras close, giving him a quick kiss. “Good morning, Apollo.”

“Hey,” Enjolras lips quirked in amusement, trying not to laugh as Musichetta swatted Grantaire on the shoulder. “No kissing on the job.”

“Ah, right. I completely forgot!” Grantaire slapped his forehead, eyes raised toward the ceiling. Enjolras snickered. He tilted his head as Grantaire whispered conspiratorially, “‘Chetta got in trouble for that when Joly and Bossuet came in. Don’t tell anyone I kissed you, I might get written up.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Enjolras whispered back. “So what do you have to get ready for tonight?”

Grantaire shook his head. “What kind of a surprise would it be if I told you about it? You’re not finding out until tonight. So you're still up for it?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” Enjolras replied.

“Good.” Grantaire handed him a cup. Enjolras raised an eyebrow.

“You made me coffee this morning, R.”

“I know. It's not coffee. Try it,” Grantaire insisted. Enjolras drank, burning his tongue slightly, recognising the taste of hot chocolate. “Good, isn't it?”

Enjolras got cut off in his reply as a customer behind him tapped him on the shoulder. “Are you done? Other people are waiting.”

“Oh, sorry,” he stepped aside. “It is really good. How much do I owe you?” The artist almost looked wounded at that question.

“On the house, of course. What kind of question is that? Geez, I actually didn't think I'd be this busy. Is this why you're grumpy, ‘Chetta?” He asked the girl, who was still rushing around. The look he received made him laugh. “Oh, Enjolras. You know, I've gotten at least five different phone numbers.”

“Really.” Enjolras couldn't help the small pang of jealousy that ran through him.

“Yup. I'm irresistible.” Grantaire winked at him. “But don't worry. I'm yours and only yours.” He was multitasking now, taking orders and chatting, but he showed no sign of discomfort. Enjolras couldn't help but admire him. 

“You're in a surprisingly good mood today,” he noticed. Grantaire shrugged.

“I just can't wait till later.” He looked back discreetly. A man stood watching the two, and from the machine Musichetta was giving a warning look. “Um, my boss is watching. I hate to say it, but you should probably go.”

“Alright. I think your customers feel the same way.” Enjolras stepped away from the counter. “I'll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight! Don't forget, five o'clock,” Grantaire said with a little wave. Enjolras exited the shop, looking up at the sky. Small blue patches peeked out from the grey clouds that had formed. Hopefully it would clear up by tonight. He shivered, it was time to go home. Time to curl up on the couch and relax.

***

The sun was setting when Grantaire found Enjolras standing at the edge of the place, hands in his pockets, a scarf wrapped around his neck. Red, of course. His foot was tapping out an unknown rhythm, reflecting his impatience. Grantaire had to smile. 

“Hey,” he said as he neared Enjolras, who turned towards him. The tip of his nose was red, how long had he been waiting? “Miss me?”

“I saw you not five hours ago,” Enjolras said, but he came forward and hugged Grantaire anyway. “You’re late.”

“What? Pshh, no I’m not.”

“You said five.”

“Around five,” Grantaire stuck his tongue out. “It’s 5:02.” He laced his fingers with Enjolras’. “What’d you do while I was gone?”

“I read at home, where it was warm,” Enjolras stated. Grantaire snorted. Of all the things he could have done today.

“What a nerd,” Grantaire teased, nudging at Enjolras, who scowled. He wrapped his arm around the blond’s waist, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He loved being able to do this, to actually be dating Enjolras.

“Not all of us are lucky enough to be in the work-force,” Enjolras retorted lightly. Grantaire laughed, his first day on the job and it was already being held against him. “So what are we here for?”

“I wanted to take you tagging, actually.” Grantaire said. “But it’ll be a little different this time. I have a special place in mind.”

“We aren’t going to get arrested, are we?”

“Naw.” Grantaire grinned. “Now come on!” He pulled Enjolras after him, setting off down the street. The people still walking gave them curious looks, which the artist ignored.

“R, slow down! The way we’re running, people are going to think we’re up to something!” Enjolras said, but he was laughing.

“But we are up to something, Apollo!” Grantaire said, wiggling the fingers on his free hand in a mystical fashion. “Vandalism!” Enjolras just rolled his eyes.

The stars were bright in the cold night, and Grantaire wished he’d worn something a little thicker than the coat he’d put on this morning. The wind was biting cold, whipping at them as they ran. Their breath was visible against the darkness, coming up in small wisps that almost immediately disappeared.

 

He started slowing once they neared their destination, glancing around. It had been a while since he’d last come here to tag. 

“So if we’re going tagging, where are the paints?” Enjolras asked.

“Already there. I had this planned out, sorta like a date, haha.” Grantaire rubbed at the back of his head, feeling a blush coming on.

“A date?” Enjolras repeated, getting closer to Grantaire and resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah. I mean, if you’re okay with that. It is a little rushed, maybe? We could always just reschedu-mmph!” He was cut off as his boyfriend kissed him, stopping them both in their tracks. Grantaire closed his eyes, leaning in for a deeper kiss, and then Enjolras was gone. With a start he opened his eyes again, and Enjolras gave him a look that was positively wicked.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve said that you talk too much, R,” Enjolras quipped, a sly smirk on his face that awakened the butterflies in Grantaire’s stomach. He was taken aback by Enjolras’ cockiness.

“Y-you might’ve mentioned it once or twice.” He tugged at the zipper of his coat, flustered, but Enjolras started walking again, a slight smirk on his face.

“C’mon, R. I thought you were taking me out on a date.” Grantaire followed, still in half a daze.

 

The place he’d picked wasn’t the most conventional place for a date. As he swung open the door, he took in the musty scent of old wood. Next to the door was his bag, and he rooted through for a couple of flashlights, handing one to Enjolras and clicking on the one in his hand. The beams lit up the building, lighting up on the stain glass windows and art-covered walls.

He’d found this place during high school, on his daily runs in preparation for boxing. One day he’d taken a wrong turn and ended up in the dilapidated building. At the time the walls had been mostly bare, a few drawing here and there, but as time went on and Grantaire realised his potential with spray paints, the interior had become a colourful canvas of blues, greens, reds, and any other colours found under the rainbow. He watched as Enjolras took this all in, eyes wide.

He’d never shown anyone this place before, and it felt like how he usually did when showing someone his art, waiting for comments and reactions: vulnerable. Rarely were artists confident enough to show off their most meaningful pieces, and here he was, about to show Enjolras all of it. He bit his lip nervously, unable to gauge Enjolras’ reaction. “So, how do you like it?” He asked shyly.

***

There was no way to explain the wonder Enjolras was feeling, hand tracing different patterns on the wall. The colours were so vivid, making the entire structure a work of art. He turned around, meeting Grantaire’s eyes.

“This is beautiful.” Grantaire lit up at the compliment, forming a warm feeling in Enjolras heart. “Did you do all of this?”

“Most of it,” Grantaire admitted. “There were a couple drawings before I found the church. I decided to keep them,” he said. He headed back towards the front of the church, where a giant window not unlike the one in Notre Dame was. It had cracks and small pieces missing, but a quick sweep over the window showed all the glittering shards. Moonlight currently flooded the room, streaming through the window. However, more light couldn’t hurt, and Grantaire had brought over a small battery-powered lamp, switching it on and brightening the building with a warm yellow light. Enjolras set down his flashlight.

“So what’s the story behind this church?”

“Dunno,” Grantaire said, “there’re some burn marks, but other than that it seems fine. I’m guessing it ran out of money. Shame, but now I have a place to put my art.”

“Have you drawn me?” Enjolras asked curiously. He remembered Grantaire loved sketching his friends back at the Musain, but there weren’t any pictures of them on the wall. 

Grantaire nodded. “I was going to show you this room last.” He let Enjolras to a small door in the back corner of the church, opening it. The door gave a loud creak.

The room behind the door was mostly empty, white patches on the walls visible. But clearly some of Grantaire’s best works were here. Drawings of the amis spanned the room, followed by familiar quotes. With a start he realised they were his words, spoken during his speeches and rallies. At the centre was a portrait of him, all fire and determination and pride. His eyes were full of passion and light, and Enjolras wondered if this was how Grantaire saw him every day. He looked at the artist, words escaping him.

“I wondered if I’d ever get to show you,” Grantaire said simply. “You’re the first person I’ve ever invited to see this.”

“I’m honoured,” Enjolras practically whispered, eyes back on the drawings. He’d never seen anything like this, much less with him as the subject. It gave him an odd feeling, happy and inspired, but also humbled. 

“So, showing you this wasn’t the only reason I brought you here,” Grantaire said, distracting him from the wall. He pulled out the spray paint masks from his bag, waving them around cheerfully. “You’re going to help me add to this room.”

Enjolras immediately felt alarm wash over him. “No. I’d ruin it. There’s no way.”

“It’s not too hard, E. I’ll show you.” Grantaire put this mask on and picked up a can of red, covering a part of the wall in another french cockade, a bit like the one he had made before, but slightly more heart-shaped. He continued with white and blue, letting the colours drip a bit for effect. Once he made sure it was alright he took his mask back off, putting it aside for later. He and Enjolras then sat on one of the worn benches, waiting for the paint to dry before continuing. They held hands. Enjolras couldn’t keep a smile off his face as they talked, but he could tell his boyfriend was a little distracted, a strange expression on his face. He furrowed his brow.

“Grantaire, are you alright?”

Grantaire nodded, but just then, as though he couldn’t stop himself, he blurted out, “I love you.”

Enjolras felt his heart skip, startled by the sudden confession. What followed was a warm sensation that filled every corner of him, from head to toe. He gave a radiant grin, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Grantaire’s lips, soft and loving. This time he didn’t pull away when Grantaire drew closer, all traces of teasing gone. When Grantaire deepened the kiss he followed willingly. Hands wandered as they leaned back onto the bench, Enjolras pinned under Grantaire, who was careful not to bump Enjolras’ injured arm. One of his hands slipped under Grantaire's shirt, tracing small circles on his back. He felt the artist shiver, his hands weren't the warmest at the moment, and he laughed slightly into the kiss. Grantaire started kissing down his jaw, making an annoyed little sound as he reached Enjolras’ scarf. He pulled away slightly to take the scarf, unwrapping it and letting it drop to the floor. Enjolras took that moment to catch his breath, but almost immediately Grantaire was back, nipping at Enjolras’ neck. Enjolras’ small gasps turned to breathy moans once Grantaire hit a particularly sensitive spot. He felt Grantaire's mouth curl into a smile, and he wondered if he knew just how he was making Enjolras feel, like putty in Grantaire's hands.

When Grantaire pulled away, he pressed his forehead to Enjolras’, meeting his eyes. Enjolras tangled his fingers in Grantaire's hair, pulling at the soft curls. 

“Guess what?” Enjolras whispered, tilting so that his lips brushed Grantaire's ear.

“What?”

“I love you too.” He felt a rush of happiness when Grantaire kissed him. He put his hand on Grantaire's cheek, and he would have been content just to stay like that all night. However, Grantaire had other plans, pulling him up from the bench. Enjolras had to admit, it looked like they’d just come out of a hurricane. Grantaire’s hair was messier than usual, if it was possible. 

“C’mon. We need to finish this, the paint should be dry.” Grantaire pushed the can of red into Enjolras’ hand, slipping his mask back on. “I want you to put your initial up there.”

“Don’t you think this is a little cheesy?” Enjolras teased. Grantaire only nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh, absolutely. That’s the fun of it! I want to remember every bit of this.” He watched Enjolras, who was now putting up a twisty, cursive ‘E’ on the wall. Enjolras had to admit, it didn’t look half bad. At least, not as awful as the last time they had done this. He was getting the hang of this.

“I want to try something with the ‘E’. Maybe like one of those shadow effects?” He mused, eyes fixed on his work.

“Go for it, it’s a good idea,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras picked up a black can to start his idea, but he paused, suddenly unsure. “I really don’t want to mess this up. You do it,” he tried handing the can to Grantaire, who refused.

“Nope. It was your idea. I’ll help you, but you’re doing it.” He guided Enjolras’ hand through the curves of the ‘E’, letting go when Enjolras thought he could handle it. There were a few mistakes here and there, but when he turned to Grantaire, he saw only approval in his eyes. “See? I knew you could do it.”

Enjolras stepped away from the wall, setting down the paint. It was Grantaire’s turn now. “Are you going to make your trademark ‘R’?”

“I think I’m gonna do something different this time.” He picked up a green that Enjolras was sure would clash with the colour scheme. As he formed the letter, Enjolras noticed that it wasn’t as boxy as his ‘R’s usually were, and had something of a flourish to it, as if he’d stolen it from a book of calligraphy. In the end it actually fit nicely next to the ‘E’. To finish it off he added a few darker greens to the letter. “I don’t think it looks half bad.” Grantaire turned to Enjolras, who was gazing at the picture thoughtfully. He couldn’t get over just how wonderful the whole thing was. Yes, it was incredibly cheesy, but it was also considerate and charming, and he loved it. 

He wrapped his arms around Grantaire, breathing in his scent and realising just how much he felt at home. 

“I love you, Grantaire.” And he meant it. He couldn’t imagine a life without the artist, his wit, his humour, his compassion. There weren’t enough words to describe just how hard he had fallen for Grantaire. He would be happy if he could just spend the rest of his life with him. And looking into Grantaire’s eyes, Enjolras knew he felt the same way. When he reached for Grantaire’s hand, no words were needed, he knew he didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.

 

_To the sky, flying high, take me to the moon,_  
_day or night, we don't have to say a word,  
cause you make me feel like I'm intoxicated._

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!!  
> P.S. All comments are lovely and appreciated.   
> Also, if anyone wants to maybe draw fanart or something, I'd love that _so much._


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